MRS. HIGGINS [cordially] Quite right: I’m very glad indeed to see you.
PICKERING How do you do, Miss Doolittle?
LIZA [shaking hands with him] Colonel Pickering, is it not?
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL I feel sure we have met before, Miss Doolittle. I remember your eyes.
LIZA How do you do? [She sits down on the ottoman gracefully in the place just left vacant by Higgins].
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [introducing My daughter Clara.
LIZA How do you do?
CLARA [impulsively] How do you do? [She sits down on the ottoman beside Eliza, devouring her with her eyes].
FREDDY [coming to their side of the ottoman] Ive certainly had the pleasure.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [introducing] My son Freddy.
LIZA How do you do?
FREDDY bows and sits down in the Elizabethan chair, infatuated.
HIGGINS [suddenly] By George, yes: it all comes back to me! [They stare at him]. Covent Garden! [Lamentably] What a damned thing!
MRS. HIGGINS Henry, please! [He is about to sit on the edge of the table]. Dont sit on my writing-table: youll break it.
HIGGINS [sulkily] Sorry.
He goes to the divan, stumbling into the fender and over the fire-irons on his way; extricating himself with muttered imprecations; and finishing his disastrous journey by throwing himself so impatiently on the divan that he almost breaks it. MRS. HIGGINS looks at him, but controls herself and says nothing.
A long and painful pause ensues.
MRS. HIGGINS [at last, conversationally] Will it rain, do you think?
LIZA The shallow depressionhe in the west of these islands is likely to move slowly in an easterly direction. There are no indications of any great change in the barometrical situation.
FREDDY Ha! ha! how awfully funny!
LIZA What is wrong with that, young man? I bet I got it right.
FREDDY Killing!
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL I’m sure I hope it wont turn cold. Theres so much influenza about. It runs right through our whole family regularly every spring.
LIZA [darkly] My aunt died of influenza: so they said.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [clicks her tongue sympathetically]!!!
LIZA [in the same tragic tone] But it’s my belief they done the old woman in.
MRS. HIGGINS [puzzled] Done her in?
LIZA Y-e-e-e-es, Lord love you! Why should she die of influenza ? She come through diphtheria right enough the year before. I saw her with my own eyes. Fairly blue with it, she was. They all thought she was dead; but my father he kept ladling gin down her throat til she came to so sudden that she bit the bowl off the spoon.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [startled] Dear me!
LIZA [piling up the indictment] What call would a woman with that strength in her have to die of influenza? What become of her new straw hat that should have come to me? Somebody pinched it; and what I say is, them as pinched it done her in.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL What does doing her in mean?
HIGGINS [hastily] Oh, thats the new small talk. To do a person in means to kill them.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to ELIZA, horrified] You surely dont believe that your aunt was killed?
LIZA Do I not! Them she lived with would have killed her for a hat-pin, let alone a hat.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL But it cant have been right for your father to pour spirits down her throat like that. It might have killed her.
LIZA Not her. Gin was mother’s milk to her. Besides, he’d poured so much down his own throat that he knew the good of it.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL Do you mean that he drank?
LIZA Drank! My word! Something chronic.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL How dreadful for you!
LIZA Not a bit. It never did him no harm what I could see. But then he did not keep it up regular. [Cheerfully] On the burst, as you might say, from time to time. And always more agreeable when he had a drop in. When he was out of work, my mother used to give him fourpence and tell him to go out and not come back until he’d drunk himself cheerful and loving-like. Theres lots of women has to make their husbands drunk to make them fit to live with. [Now quite at her ease] You see, it’s like this. If a man has a bit of a conscience, it always takes him when he’s sober; and then it makes him low-spirited. A drop of booze just takes that off and makes him happy. [To FREDDY, who is in convulsions of suppressed laughter] Here! what are you sniggering at?
FREDDY The new small talk. You do it so awfully well.
LIZA If I was doing it proper, what was you laughing at? [To HIGGINS] Have I said anything I oughtnt?
MRS. HIGGINS [interposing] Not at all, Miss Doolittle.
LIZA Well, thats a mercy, anyhow. [Expansively] What I always say is—
HIGGINS [rising and looking at his watch] Ahem!
LIZA [looking round at him; taking the hint; and rising] Well: I must go. [They all rise. FREDDY goes to the door]. So pleased to have met you. Good-bye. [She shakes hands with MRS. HIGGINS ].
MRS. HIGGINS Good-bye.
LIZA Good-bye, Colonel Pickering.
PICKERING Good-bye, Miss Doolittle. [They shake hands].
LIZA [nodding to the others] Good-bye, all.
FREDDY [opening the door for her] Are you walking across the Park, Miss Doolittle? If so—
LIZA Walk! Not bloody10 likely. [Sensation]. I am going in a taxi. [She goes out].
PICKERING gasps and sits down. FREDDY goes out on the balcony to catch another glimpse of ELIZA.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [suffering from shock] Well, I really cant get used to the new ways.
CLARA [throwing herself discontentedly into the Elizabethan chair] Oh, it’s all right, mamma, quite right. People will think we never go anywhere or see anybody if you are so old-fashioned.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL I daresay I am very old-fashioned; but I do hope you wont begin using that expression, Clara. I have got accustomed to hear you talking about men as rotters, hf and calling everything filthy and beastly;hg though I do think it horrible and unladylike. But this last is really too much. Dont you think so, Colonel Pickering?
PICKERING Dont ask me. Ive been away in India for several years; and manners have changed so much that I sometimes dont know whether I’m at a respectable dinner-table or in a ship’s forecastle.hh
CLARA It’s all a matter of habit. Theres no right or wrong in it. Nobody means anything by it. And it’s so quaint, and gives such a smart emphasis to things that are not in themselves very witty. I find the new small talk delightful and quite innocent.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [risins] Well, after that, I think it’s time for us to go.
PICKERING and HIGGINS rise.
CLARA [rising] Oh yes: we have three at-homes to go to still. Good-bye, Mrs. Higgins. Good-bye, Colonel Pickering. Good-bye, Professor Higgins.
HIGGINS [coming grimly at her from the divan, and accompanying her to the door] Good-bye. Be sure you try on that small talk at the three at-homes. Dont be nervous about it. Pitch it in strong.
CLARA [all smiles] I will. Good-bye. Such nonsense, all this early Victorian prudery!
HIGGINS [tempting her] Such damned nonsense!
CLARA Such bloody nonsense!
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [convulsively] Clara!
CLARA Ha! ha! [She goes out radiant, conscious of being thoroughly up to date, and is heard descending the stairs in a stream of silvery laughter].
FREDDY [to the heavens at large] Well, I ask you—[He gives it up, and comes to MRS. HIGGINS]. Good-bye.
MRS. HIGGINS [shaking hands] Good-bye. Would you like to meet Miss Doolittle again?
FREDDY [eagerly] Yes, I should, most awfully.
MRS. HIGGINS Well, you know my days.
FREDDY Yes. Thanks awfully. Good-bye. [He goes out].
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL Good-bye, Mr. Higgins.
HIGGINS Good-bye. Good-bye.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to PICKERING] It’s no use. I shall never be able to bring myself to use that word.
PICKERING Dont. It’s not compuls
ory, you know. Youll get on quite well without it.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL Only, Clara is so down on me if I am not positively reeking with the latest slang. Good-bye.
PICKERING Good-bye [They shake hands].
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to MRS. HIGGINS] You mustnt mind Clara. [PICKERING, catching from her lowered tone that this is not meant for him to hear, discreetly joins HIGGINS at the window]. We’re so poor! and she gets so few parties, poor child! She doesnt quite know. [MRS. HIGGINS, seeing that her eyes are moist, takes her hand sympathetically and goes with her to the door]. But the boy is nice. Dont you think so?
MRS. HIGGINS Oh, quite nice. I shall always be delighted to see him.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL Thank you, dear. Good-bye. [She goes out].
HIGGINS [eagerly] Well? Is Eliza presentable [he swoops on his mother and drags her to the ottoman, where she sits down in ELIZA’s place with her son on her left]?
PICKERING returns to his chair on her right.
MRS. HIGGINS You silly boy, of course shes not presentable. Shes a triumph of your art and of her dressmaker’s; but if you suppose for a moment that she doesnt give herself away in every sentence she utters, you must be perfectly cracked about her.
PICKERING But dont you think something might be done? I mean something to eliminate the sanguinary element from her conversation.
MRS. HIGGINS Not as long as she is in Henry’s hands.
HIGGINS [aggrieved] Do you mean that my language is improper ?
MRS. HIGGINS No, dearest: it would be quite proper—say on a canal barge; but it would not be proper for her at a garden party.
HIGGINS [deeply injured] Well I must say—
PICKERING [interrupting him] Come, Higgins: you must learn to know yourself. I havnt heard such language as yours since we used to review the volunteers in Hyde Park twenty years ago.
HIGGINS [sulkily] Oh, well, if you say so, I suppose I dont always talk like a bishop.
MRS. HIGGINS [quieting Henry with a touch] Colonel Pickering: will you tell me what is the exact state of things in Wimpole Street?
PICKERING [cheerfully: as if this completely changed the subject] Well, I have come to live there with Henry. We work together at my Indian Dialects; and we think it more convenient—
MRS. HIGGINS Quite so. I know all about that: it’s an excellent arrangement. But where does this girl live?
HIGGINS With us, of course. Where would she live?
MRS. HIGGINS But on what terms? Is she a servant? If not, what is she?
PICKERING [slowly] I think I know what you mean, Mrs. Higgins.
HIGGINS Well, dash me if I do! Ive had to work at the girl every day for months to get her to her present pitch. Besides, shes useful. She knows where my things are, and remembers my appointments and so forth.
MRS. HIGGINS How does your housekeeper get on with her?
HIGGINS Mrs. Pearce? Oh, shes jolly glad to get so much taken off her hands; for before Eliza came, she used to have to find things and remind me of my appointments. But shes got some silly bee in her bonnet about Eliza. She keeps saying “You dont think, sir”: doesnt she, Pick?
PICKERING Yes: thats the formula. “You dont think, sir.” Thats the end of every conversation about Eliza.
HIGGINS As if I ever stop thinking about the girl and her confounded vowels and consonants. I’m worn out, thinking about her, and watching her lips and her teeth and her tongue, not to mention her soul, which is the quaintest of the lot.
MRS. HIGGINS You certainly are a pretty pair of babies, playing with your live doll.
HIGGINS Playing! The hardest job I ever tackled: make no mistake about that, mother. But you have no idea how frightfully interesting it is to take a human being and change her into a quite different human being by creating a new speech for her. It’s filling up the deepest gulf that separates class from class and soul from soul.
PICKERING [drawing his chair closer to MRS. HIGGINS and bending over to her eagerly] Yes: it’s enormously interesting. I assure you, Mrs. Higgins, we take Eliza very seriously. Every week—every day almost—there is some new change. [Closer again] We keep records of every stage—dozens of gramophone disks and photographs—
HIGGINS [assailing her at the other ear] Yes, by George: it’s the most absorbing experiment I ever tackled. She regularly fills our lives up; doesnt she, Pick?
PICKERING We’re always talking Eliza.
HIGGINS Teaching Eliza.
PICKERING Dressing Eliza.
MRS. HIGGINS What!
HIGGINS Inventing new Elizas.
11
* Franz Lehár (1870-1948), Hungarian composer of operettas; a contemporary of Shaw.
MRS. HIGGINS [putting her fingers in her ears, as they are by this time shouting one another down with an intolerable noise] Sh-sh-sh—sh! [They stop].
PICKERING I beg your pardon. [He draws his chair back apologetically] .
HIGGINS Sorry. When Pickering starts shouting nobody can get a word in edgeways.
MRS. HIGGINS Be quiet, Henry. Colonel Pickering: dont you realize that when Eliza walked into Wimpole Street, something walked in with her?
PICKERING Her father did. But Henry soon got rid of him.
MRS. HIGGINS It would have been more to the point if her mother had. But as her mother didnt something else did.
PICKERING But what?
MRS. HIGGINS [unconsciously dating herself by the word] A problem.
PICKERING Oh, I see. The problem of how to pass her off as a lady.
HIGGINS I’ll solve that problem. Ive half solved it already.
MRS. HIGGINS No, you two infinitely stupid male creatures: the problem of what is to be done with her afterwards.
HIGGINS I dont see anything in that. She can go her own way, with all the advantages I have given her.
MRS. HIGGINS The advantages of that poor woman who was here just now! The manners and habits that disqualify a fine lady from earning her own living without giving her a fine lady’s income! Is that what you mean?
PICKERING [indulgently, being rather bored] Oh, that will be all right, Mrs. Higgins. [He rises to go].
HIGGINS [rising also] We’ll find her some light employment.
PICKERING Shes happy enough. Dont you worry about her. Good-bye. [He shakes hands as if he were consoling a frightened child, and makes for the door].
HIGGINS Anyhow, theres no good bothering now. The things done. Good-bye, mother. [He kisses her, and follows PICKERING].
PICKERING [turning for a final consolation] There are plenty of openings. We’ll do whats right. Good-bye.
HIGGINS [to PICKERING as they go out together] Let’s take her to the Shakespear exhibition at Earls Court.
PICKERING Yes: lets. Her remarks will be delicious.
HIGGINS She’ll mimic all the people for us when we get home.
PICKERING Ripping. [Both are heard laughing as they go downstairs] .
MRS. HIGGINS [rises with an impatient bounce, and returns to her work at the writing-table. She sweeps a litter of disarranged papers out of her way; snatches a sheet of paper from her stationery case; and tries resolutely to write. At the third line she gives it up; flings down her pen; grips the table angrily and exclaims] Oh, men! men!! men!!!
ACT IV
The Wimpole Street laboratory. Midnight. Nobody in the room. The clock on the mantelpiece strikes twelve. The fire is not alight: it is a summer night.
Presently Higgins and Pickering are heard on the stairs.
HIGGINS [calling down to PICKERING] I say, Pick: lock up, will you. I shant be going out again.
PICKERING Right. Can Mrs. Pearce go to bed? We dont want anything more, do we?
HIGGINS Lord, no!
ELIZA opens the door and is seen on the lighted landing in opera cloak, brilliant evening dress, and diamonds, with fan, flowers, and all acces- , sories. She comes to the hearth, and switches on the electric lights there. She is tired: her pallor contrasts strongly with her dark eyes and hair; and her expression
is almost tragic. She takes off her cloak; puts her fan and flowers on the piano; and sits down on the bench, brooding and silent. HIGGINS, in evening dress, with overcoat and hat, comes in, carrying a smoking jackethi which he has picked up downstairs. He takes off the hat and overcoat; throws them carelessly on the newspaper stand; disposes of his coat in the same way; puts on the smoking jacket; and throws himself wearily into the easy-chair at the hearth. PICKERING, similarly attired, comes in. He also takes off his hat and overcoat, and is about to throw them on HIGGINS’s when he hesitates.
PICKERING I say: Mrs. Pearce will row if we leave these things lying about in the drawing-room.
HIGGINS Oh, chuck them over the bannisters into the hall. She’ll find them there in the morning and put them away all right. She’ll think we were drunk.
PICKERING We are, slightly. Are there any letters?
HIGGINS I didnt look. [PICKERING takes the overcoats and hats and goes downstairs. HIGGINS begins half singing half yawning an air from La Fanciulla del Golden West. 12 Suddenly he stops and exclaims] I wonder where the devil my slippers are!
ELIZA looks at him darkly; then rises suddenly and leaves the room.
HIGGINS yawns again, and resumes his song.
PICKERING returns, with the contents of the letter-box in his hand.
PICKERING Only circulars, and this coroneted billet-douxhj for you. [He throws the circulars into the fender, and posts himself on the hearthrug, with his back to the grate].
HIGGINS [glancing at the billet-doux] Money-lender. [He throws the letter after the circulars].
ELIZA returns with a pair of large down-at-heel slippers. She places them on the carpet before HIGGINS, and sits as before without a word.
HIGGINS [yawnins again] Oh Lord! What an evening! What a crew! What a silly tomfoollery! [He raises his shoe to unlace it, and catches sight of the slippers. He stops unlacing and looks at them as if they had appeared there of their own accord]. Oh! theyre there, are they?
PICKERING [stretching himself] Well, I feel a bit tired. It’s been a long day. The garden party, a dinner party, and the opera! Rather too much of a good thing. But you’ve won your bet, Higgins. Eliza did the trick, and something to spare, eh?
Pygmalion and Three Other Plays (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 42