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.
* Franz Lehar (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 jacket[217] 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.