Pygmalion Page #8

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I'd ram 'em down your ungrateful throat.

This ring-

It isn't the eweler's.

It's the one you bought me

in Brighton.

I don't want it now.

- Don't you hit me!

- Hit you, you infamous creature?

How dare you accuse me of such a thing.

It's you who have hit me.

- You have wounded me to the heart.

- I'm glad.

Glad! I've got a little

of my own back anyhow!

You've caused me to lose my temper, a thing

that's hardly ever happened to me before.

I prefer to say nothing more tonight.

I shall go to bed.

You'd better leave a note

for Mrs. Pearce about the coffee,

because she won't

be told by me!

Damn Mrs. Pearce, and damn the coffee,

and damn you and damn my own folly...

in having lavished

hard-earned knowledge...

and the treasure

of my regard and intimacy...

on a heartless

guttersnipe!

Whatever are you

doing here?

Uh, uh... nothing.

As a matter of fact,

I spend most of my nights here.

It's the only place

I feel really happy.

- Don't laugh at me, Miss Doolittle.

- Don't call me Miss Doolittle.

Eliza's good enough

for me.

- Where are you going?

- To the river.

- What for?

- To make a hole in it.

- To make a... hole in it?

- Freddy.

You don't think I'm

a heartless guttersnipe, do you?

No, darling.

How can you imagine such a thing?

I think you're the most wonderful-

the loveliest-

NoW then, noW then, noW then.

- This isn't Paris, you know.

- No. Sorry, Constable.

Eliza. Eliza.

- You let me kiss you.

- Well, why not? Why shouldn't someone kiss me?

Why shouldn't someone

be in love with me? Kiss me again.

- Kiss me again!

- All right.

Now then, you two,

what's this?

- Were you annoying that young lady?

- No, Constable, certainly not.

- Move along, then, double quick.

- As you say, sir.

Well, if it ain't-

Beg your pardon, Miss.

Buy a flower

off a poor girl?

Thank you, Miss.

Sir.

Your coffee, sir.

Didn't Eliza tell you

to bring tea?

She didn't wait to tell me.

She's gone.

- Gone?

- I said gone, and I meant it, every word of it.

Mrs. Pearce!

Where the devil's my engagement book?

- I don't know any of my appointments!

- Eliza would know.

- But she isn't here, damn it!

- Then you'd better find her, damn it!

What's that ass

of an inspector say?

- Have you offered a reward?

- Shh.! What?

- You can't help us find her?

- What are the police for, in Heaven's name?

I really think they

suspected us of some improper purpose.

Of course, I don't care

what becomes of her.

Where the devil

can she be?

- Have you seen Eliza Doolittle?

- No.

I say, Mother,

here's a confounded thing.

- Good morning, my dear. What is it?

- Eliza's bolted.

- Good morning, Colonel Pickering.

- What am I to do?

Do without,

I'm afraid, Henry.

The girl has a perfect right

to leave if she chooses.

- Something may have happened to her.

- What are we to do?

You've no more sense,

either of you, than two children.

You must have frightened

the poor girl.

I hardly said a word to her.

Did you bully her after I went to bed?

Exactly the other way about.

She threw the slippers in my face.

The moment I entered the room, the slippers

came bang in my face before I'd uttered a word.

- And she used the most perfectly awful language.

- dd

I can't say I'm surprised.

And you mean to tell me

that after all her hard work...

and after doing this wonderful thing for

you without making one single mistake,

you two sat there

and hardly said a word to her?

Well, we didn't make speeches

if that's what you mean.

You didn't thank her,

pet her, admire her?

And she only threw

the slippers at you.

I'd have thrown

the fire irons at you.

Mr. Henry, a gentleman wants

to see you most particular.

- I can't see anybody now.

- He's been sent down from Wimpole Street.

- Who is it?

- Mr. Doolittle, sir.

- dd

- Doolittle? A dustman?

Dustman? Oh, no, sir.

A gentleman.

Show him in.

By George, Pick, this is some

relative of hers she's gone to,

someone we know nothing about,

genteel relations.

Now we shall hear

something.

Doolittle!

What the dickens

has happened to you?

Henry Higgins, do you see this?

Look at this. You done this.

- Done what, man?

- Look at this hat. Look at this coat.

Good morning,

Mr. Doolittle. Won't you come in?

- Thank you, ma'am.

- What has my son done to you?

He's ruined me,

destroyed me happiness.

Tied me up and delivered me

into the hands of middle-class morality.

You're raving, you're drunk, you're mad.

I gave you five pounds.

After that, I had two conversations

with you at half a crown an hour.

- I've never even seen you since.

- Mad am I? Drunk am I?

Tell me this. Did you or did you not

write to an old blighter in America...

to say the most original moralist

at present in England...

was Alfred Doolittle,

a common garbage man?

What, Ezra D. Wannafeller,Jr.?

Oh, I remember making

some silly oke of the kind.

You might well call it

a silly oke.

I- It's put the lid on me

right enough.

Just give him the chance he was lookin'

for to show Americans isn't like us-

that they recognize and respect

merit in whatever class of life,

however humble.

Them words is in his bloomin' will in

which he leaves me 3,000 pounds a year...

on condition I lecture for

the Wannafeller Moral Reform League...

as often as they ask me,

up to six times a year.

This solves the problem

of Eliza's future.

You can provide

for her now.

Yes, I'm expected to provide

for everybody now, out of 3,000 a year.

He shan't provide for her. She doesn't

belong to him. I paid him five pounds for her.

- Doolittle, you're either an honest man or a rogue.

- Little of both.

- Have you found Eliza?

- Have you lost her?

- Yes!

- Blimey. You have all the luck, you have.

I ain't found her, but she'd find me

quick enough after what you done to her.

- Now, you listen to me- - Would you

wait here for a moment, Mr. Doolittle.

Henry, I have

a surprise for you.

- Do you really want to know where Eliza is?

- Yes. Where is she?

She says she's willing

to meet you on friendly terms,

and let bygones

be bygones.

Is she, by God?

Pickering!

- Where is she?

- Now, promise to behave yourself, Henry.

Good morning, Colonel Pickering.

Quite chilly this morning, isn't it?

Oh, how do you do, Professor Higgins?

Are you quite well?

But of course you are.

You're never ill.

Won't you sit down,

Colonel Pickering?

Don't you dare try

this game on with me.

Get up and come home!

And don't be a fool.

Very nicely put indeed, Henry. No Woman

could resist such an invitation.

Let her speak for herself.

There isn't an idea

that I haven't put into her head.

I tell you, I've created this thing

out of squashed cabbage leaves...

in Covent Garden.

Now she pretends to play

the fine lady with me.

Will you drop me altogether now the

experiment is over, Colonel Pickering?

You mustn't

think of it as an experiment.

Oh, I'm only

a "squashed cabbage" leaf.

But I owe so much to you that I

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