Pygmalion George Bernard Shaw (the mitten read aloud .txt) 📖

epub:type="z3998:persona">Mrs. Pearce Stop, Mr. Higgins. I won’t allow it. It’s you that are wicked. Go home to your parents, girl; and tell them to take better care of you. Liza I ain’t got no parents. They told me I was big enough to earn my own living and turned me out. Mrs. Pearce Where’s your mother? Liza I ain’t got no mother. Her that turned me out was my sixth stepmother. But I done without them. And I’m a good girl, I am. Higgins Very well, then, what on earth is all this fuss about? The girl doesn’t belong to anybody⁠—is no use to anybody but me. He goes to Mrs. Pearce and begins coaxing. You can adopt her, Mrs. Pearce: I’m sure a daughter would be a great amusement to you. Now don’t make any more fuss. Take her downstairs; and⁠— Mrs. Pearce But what’s to become of her? Is she to be paid anything? Do be sensible, sir. Higgins Oh, pay her whatever is necessary: put it down in the housekeeping book. Impatiently. What on earth will she want with money? She’ll have her food and her clothes. She’ll only drink if you give her money. Liza Turning on him. Oh you are a brute. It’s a lie: nobody ever saw the sign of liquor on me. She goes back to her chair and plants herself there defiantly. Pickering In good-humored remonstrance. Does it occur to you, Higgins, that the girl has some feelings? Higgins Looking critically at her. Oh no, I don’t think so. Not any feelings that we need bother about. Cheerily. Have you, Eliza? Liza I got my feelings same as anyone else. Higgins To Pickering, reflectively. You see the difficulty? Pickering Eh? What difficulty? Higgins To get her to talk grammar. The mere pronunciation is easy enough. Liza I don’t want to talk grammar. I want to talk like a lady. Mrs. Pearce Will you please keep to the point, Mr. Higgins. I want to know on what terms the girl is to be here. Is she to have any wages? And what is to become of her when you’ve finished your teaching? You must look ahead a little. Higgins Impatiently. What’s to become of her if I leave her in the gutter? Tell me that, Mrs. Pearce. Mrs. Pearce That’s her own business, not yours, Mr. Higgins. Higgins Well, when I’ve done with her, we can throw her back into the gutter; and then it will be her own business again; so that’s all right. Liza Oh, you’ve no feeling heart in you: you don’t care for nothing but yourself. She rises and takes the floor resolutely. Here! I’ve had enough of this. I’m going. Making for the door. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you ought. Higgins Snatching a chocolate cream from the piano, his eyes suddenly beginning to twinkle with mischief. Have some chocolates, Eliza. Liza Halting, tempted. How do I know what might be in them? I’ve heard of girls being drugged by the like of you. Higgins whips out his penknife; cuts a chocolate in two; puts one half into his mouth and bolts it; and offers her the other half. Higgins Pledge of good faith, Eliza. I eat one half you eat the other. Liza opens her mouth to retort: he pops the half chocolate into it. You shall have boxes of them, barrels of them, every day. You shall live on them. Eh? Liza Who has disposed of the chocolate after being nearly choked by it. I wouldn’t have ate it, only I’m too ladylike to take it out of my mouth. Higgins Listen, Eliza. I think you said you came in a taxi. Liza Well, what if I did? I’ve as good a right to take a taxi as anyone else. Higgins You have, Eliza; and in future you shall have as many taxis as you want. You shall go up and down and round the town in a taxi every day. Think of that, Eliza. Mrs. Pearce Mr. Higgins: you’re tempting the girl. It’s not right. She should think of the future. Higgins At her age! Nonsense! Time enough to think of the future when you haven’t any future to think of. No, Eliza: do as this lady does: think of other people’s futures; but never think of your own. Think of chocolates, and taxis, and gold, and diamonds. Liza No: I don’t want no gold and no diamonds. I’m a good girl, I am. She sits down again, with an attempt at dignity. Higgins You shall remain so, Eliza, under the care of Mrs. Pearce. And you shall marry an officer in the Guards, with a beautiful moustache: the son of a marquis, who will disinherit him for marrying you, but will relent when he sees your beauty and goodness⁠— Pickering Excuse me, Higgins; but I really must interfere. Mrs. Pearce is quite right. If this girl is to put herself in your hands for six months for an experiment in teaching, she must understand thoroughly what she’s doing. Higgins How can she? She’s incapable of understanding anything. Besides, do any of us understand what we are doing? If we did, would we ever do it? Pickering Very clever, Higgins; but not sound sense. To Liza. Miss Doolittle⁠— Liza Overwhelmed. Ah⁠—ah⁠—ow⁠—oo! Higgins There! That’s all you get out of Eliza. Ah⁠—ah⁠—ow⁠—oo! No use explaining. As a military man you ought to know that. Give her her orders: that’s what she wants. Eliza: you are to live here for the next six months, learning how to speak beautifully, like a lady in a florist’s shop. If you’re good and do whatever you’re told, you shall sleep in a proper bedroom, and have lots to eat, and money to buy chocolates and take rides in taxis. If you’re naughty and idle you will sleep in the back kitchen among the black beetles, and be walloped by Mrs. Pearce with a broomstick. At the end of six months you shall go to Buckingham Palace in a carriage, beautifully dressed. If the King finds out you’re not a lady, you will be taken by the police to