Pygmalion

me. It was interesting enough at first, while we were at the phonetics; but after that I got deadly sick of it. If I hadn’t backed myself to do it I should have chucked the whole thing up two months ago. It was a silly notion: the whole thing has been a bore.

Pickering
Oh come! the garden party was frightfully exciting. My heart began beating like anything.


Higgins
Yes, for the first three minutes. But when I saw we were going to win hands down, I felt like a bear in a cage, hanging about doing nothing. The dinner was worse: sitting gorging there for over an hour, with nobody but a damned fool of a fashionable woman to talk to! I tell you, Pickering, never again for me. No more artificial duchesses. The whole thing has been simple purgatory.


Pickering
You’ve never been broken in properly to the social routine. Strolling over to the piano. I rather enjoy dipping into it occasionally myself: it makes me feel young again. Anyhow, it was a great success: an immense success. I was quite frightened once or twice because Eliza was doing it so well. You see, lots of the real people can’t do it at all: they’re such fools that they think style comes by nature to people in their position; and so they never learn. There’s always something professional about doing a thing superlatively well.


Higgins
Yes: that’s what drives me mad: the silly people don’t know their own silly business. Rising. However, it’s over and done with; and now I can go to bed at last without dreading tomorrow.



Eliza’s beauty becomes murderous.


Pickering
I think I shall turn in too. Still, it’s been a great occasion: a triumph for you. Good night. He goes.


Higgins
Following him. Good night. Over his shoulder, at the door. Put out the lights, Eliza; and tell  Mrs. Pearce not to make coffee for me in the morning: I’ll take tea. He goes out.



Eliza tries to control herself and feel indifferent as she rises and walks across to the hearth to switch off the lights. By the time she gets there she is on the point of screaming. She sits down in Higgins’s chair and holds on hard to the arms. Finally she gives way and flings herself furiously on the floor raging.


Higgins
In despairing wrath outside. What the devil have I done with my slippers? He appears at the door.


Liza
Snatching up the slippers, and hurling them at him one after the other with all her force. There are your slippers. And there. Take your slippers; and may you never have a day’s luck with them!


Higgins
Astounded. What on earth⁠—! He comes to her. What’s the matter? Get up. He pulls her up. Anything wrong?


Liza
Breathless. Nothing wrong⁠—with you. I’ve won your bet for you, haven’t I? That’s enough for you. I don’t matter, I suppose.


Higgins
You won my bet! You! Presumptuous insect! I won it. What did you throw those slippers at me for?


Liza
Because I wanted to smash your face. I’d like to kill you, you selfish brute. Why didn’t you leave me where you picked me out of⁠—in the gutter? You thank God it’s all over, and that now you can throw me back again there, do you? She crisps her fingers, frantically.


Higgins
Looking at her in cool wonder. The creature is nervous, after all.


Liza
Gives a suffocated scream of fury, and instinctively darts her nails at his face.


Higgins
Catching her wrists. Ah! would you? Claws in, you cat. How dare you show your temper to me? Sit down and be quiet. He throws her roughly into the easy-chair.


Liza
Crushed by superior strength and weight. What’s to become of me? What’s to become of me?


Higgins
How the devil do I know what’s to become of you? What does it matter what becomes of you?


Liza
You don’t care. I know you don’t care. You wouldn’t care if I was dead. I’m nothing to you⁠—not so much as them slippers.


Higgins
Thundering. Those slippers.


Liza
With bitter submission. Those slippers. I didn’t think it made any difference now.



A pause. Eliza hopeless and crushed. Higgins a little uneasy.


Higgins
In his loftiest manner. Why have you begun going on like this? May I ask whether you complain of your treatment here?


Liza
No.


Higgins
Has anybody behaved badly to you? Colonel Pickering?  Mrs. Pearce? Any of the servants?


Liza
No.


Higgins
I presume you don’t pretend that I have treated you badly.


Liza
No.


Higgins
I am glad to hear it. He moderates his tone. Perhaps you’re tired after the strain of the day. Will you have a glass of champagne? He moves towards the door.


Liza
No. Recollecting her manners. Thank you.


Higgins
Good-humored again. This has been coming on you for some days. I suppose it was natural for you to be anxious about the garden party. But that’s all over now. He pats her kindly on the shoulder. She writhes. There’s nothing more to worry about.


Liza
No. Nothing more for you to worry about. She suddenly rises and gets away from him by going to the piano bench, where she sits and hides her face. Oh God! I wish I was dead.


Higgins
Staring after her in sincere surprise. Why? in heaven’s name, why? Reasonably, going to her. Listen to me, Eliza. All this irritation is purely subjective.


Liza
I don’t understand. I’m too ignorant.


Higgins
It’s only imagination. Low spirits and nothing else. Nobody’s hurting you. Nothing’s wrong. You go to bed like a good girl and sleep it off. Have a little cry and say your prayers: that will make you comfortable.


Liza
I heard your prayers. “Thank God it’s all over!”


Higgins
Impatiently. Well, don’t you thank God it’s all over? Now you are free and can do what you like.


Liza
Pulling herself together in desperation. What am I fit