At eleven o¡¯clock the next morning, Higgins and Pickering are in Higgins¡¯s laboratory in Wimpole Street, a

fashionable and expensive area in Westminster, close to the Royal Society of Medicine and the consulting

rooms of many distinguished specialist doctors. Higgins has been giving Pickering a tour of the laboratory and

demonstrating the equipment to him when his housekeeper, Mrs. Pearce, enters and announces that a young

woman with a ¡°dreadful¡± accent has come to see him.

Eliza Doolittle (or Liza–she is called both), the flower girl Higgins and Pickering met the night before, enters

the laboratory, dressed in what were evidently the cleanest and most respectable clothes she could find,

though they create a pathetic impression on the two gentlemen and the audience. Higgins had been hoping to

have a new accent to study, so he is disappointed and irritated to see Eliza, as he made notes on her accent the

night before. He dismisses her brusquely, but Eliza announces that she has come to take lessons and intends to

pay for them. She recalls Higgins¡¯s boast from the night before and states that she wants to learn to speak

English correctly so that she can ¡°be a lady in a flower shop stead of selling at the corner of Tottenham Court

Road.¡±

Eliza offers Higgins a shilling an hour to teach her English, since a friend of hers pays eighteen pence an hour

for French lessons and it cannot cost as much as that to learn one¡¯s own language. Higgins points out to

Pickering that if one considers the shilling as a proportion of Eliza¡¯s income, this is actually a handsome offer,

equivalent to sixty pounds from the millionaires he is accustomed to teaching. The mention of such a large

sum of money leads Eliza to panic and she begins to cry.

Pickering, who, unlike Higgins, has treated Eliza with consideration and courtesy since her arrival, says that

he is interested in the notion of teaching Eliza to speak English properly. He reminds Higgins of his boast and

suggests that they should conduct an experiment to see whether they can really pass Eliza off as an

upper-class lady at a social event, wagering Higgins the expenses of the experiment that he will not be able to

do it. Higgins agrees to this, regarding it as an irresistible challenge. He continues to talk about Eliza as if she

were not present, exhibiting a complete lack of regard for her feelings and announcing, ¡°I shall make a

duchess of this draggletailed guttersnipe.¡±

Higgins then instructs Mrs. Pearce to take Eliza away and wash her, burning her clothes and ordering new

ones. Pickering, Mrs. Pearce, and Eliza all protest that, as Mrs. Pearce expresses, ¡°you can't take a girl up like

that as if you were picking up a pebble on the beach.¡± They ask what Eliza¡¯s position is to be in the house and

what is to happen to her when the experiment is finished. Higgins treats these objections scornfully, pointing

out that Eliza has no future as things stand. She is not married, and nobody else wants her. Finally, he

prevails, and Mrs. Pearce takes Eliza to the bathroom.

When the two of them are alone, Pickering asks Higgins if he is ¡°a man of good character where women are

concerned.¡± Higgins flippantly replies that he has never met such a man, but he assures Pickering that his

interest in Eliza is purely professional. Mrs. Pearce returns briefly while Eliza is bathing and, much to Higgins¡¯s chagrin, asks him to be careful about his language and personal habits while Eliza is staying with

him. She notes in particular his propensity to curse and to neglect his personal cleanliness to the extent of

wiping his fingers on his dressing gown. While Higgins is still fuming at this, Eliza¡¯s father, Alfred Doolittle,

enters.

Doolittle has adopted the attitude of a father concerned about his daughter¡¯s honor. He tells Higgins that he

wants Eliza back, and Higgins immediately replies that he should take her, suggesting that Doolittle has

arranged the entire situation to extort money from him. He then threatens to call the police. This confuses

Doolittle, who has indeed come for money but is flustered to find the topic broached so suddenly. He asks

Higgins for five pounds, adopting a wheedling tone and complaining that he is generally prevented from

receiving charity by ¡°middle class morality,¡± which regards him as ¡°one of the undeserving poor.¡± Higgins is

so delighted by Doolittle¡¯s rhetoric that he offers him ten pounds, but Doolittle says that he would rather have

five, since ten pounds is a large sum of money which he ¡°wouldn¡¯t have the heart¡± to spend.

As Doolittle leaves the laboratory, he passes a beautiful young lady in a kimono, whom he fails to recognize

as Eliza. Eliza has enjoyed a luxurious hot bath for the first time in her life and now says that she understands

why the upper classes are so clean: washing is a pleasure for them. Doolittle leaves, and Eliza remarks that

she does not want to see him again. She is already delighted with her new station in life, and she rushes out of

the laboratory with an excited shriek when Mrs. Pearce tells her that her new clothes have arrived. The scene

ends with Higgins and Pickering both realizing from this reaction just how much Eliza will have to learn if

Higgins is to succeed in the experiment.

2. Passages from Act II

PICKERING.

Higgins: I'm interested. What about the ambassador's garden party? I'll say you're the greatest teacher alive if you make that good. I'll bet you all the expenses of the experiment you can't do it. And I'll pay for the lessons.

LIZA.

Oh, you are real good. Thank you, Captain.

HIGGINS

[tempted, looking at her] It's almost irresistible. She's so deliciously low--so

horribly dirty--

LIZA

[protesting extremely] Ah--ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--oooo!!! I ain't dirty: I washed

my face and hands afore I come, I did.

PICKERING.

You're certainly not going to turn her head with flattery, Higgins.

MRS. PEARCE

[uneasy] Oh, don't say that, sir: there's more ways than one of turning a girl's

head; and nobody can do it better than Mr. Higgins, though he may not

always mean it. I do hope, sir, you won't encourage him to do anything

foolish.

HIGGINS

[becoming excited as the idea grows on him] What is life but a series of

inspired follies? The difficulty is to find them to do. Never lose a chance: it

doesn't come every day. I shall make a duchess of this draggletailed

guttersnipe.

LIZA

[strongly deprecating this view of her] Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow-- oo!

HIGGINS

[carried away] Yes: in six months--in three if she has a good ear and a quick

tongue--I'll take her anywhere and pass her off as anything. We'll start today:

now! this moment! Take her away and clean her, Mrs. Pearce. Monkey

Brand, if it won't come off any other way. Is there a good fire in the kitchen?

MRS. PEARCE

[protesting]. Yes; but--

HIGGINS

[storming on] Take all her clothes off and burn them. Ring up Whiteley or

somebody for new ones. Wrap her up in brown paper till they come.

LIZA.

You're no gentleman, you're not, to talk of such things. I'm a good girl, I am;

and I know what the like of you are, I do.

HIGGINS.

We want none of your Lisson Grove prudery here, young woman. You've got

to learn to behave like a duchess. Take her away, Mrs. Pearce. If she gives

you any trouble wallop her.

LIZA

[springing up and running between Pickering and Mrs. Pearce for protection]

No! I'll call the police, I will.

MRS. PEARCE.

But I've no place to put her.

HIGGINS.

Put her in the dustbin.

LIZA.

Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--oo!

PICKERING.

Oh come, Higgins! be reasonable.

MRS. PEARCE

[resolutely] You must be reasonable, Mr. Higgins: really you must. You can't

walk over everybody like this.

[HIGGINS, thus scolded, subsides. The hurricane is succeeded by a zephyr of

amiable surprise.]

HIGGINS

[with professional exquisiteness of modulation] I walk over everybody! My

dear Mrs. Pearce, my dear Pickering, I never had the slightest intention of

walking over anyone. All I propose is that we should be kind to this poor

girl. We must help her to prepare and fit herself for her new station in life. If I

did not express myself clearly it was because I did not wish to hurt her

delicacy, or yours.

[LIZA, reassured, steals back to her chair.]

MRS. PEARCE

[to PICKERING] Well, did you ever hear anything like that, sir?

PICKERING

[laughing heartily] Never, Mrs. Pearce: never.

HIGGINS

[patiently] What's the matter?

MRS. PEARCE.

Well, the matter is, sir, that you can't take a girl up like that as if you were

picking up a pebble on the beach.

HIGGINS.

Why not?

MRS. PEARCE.

Why not! But you don't know anything about her. What about her parents?

She may be married.

LIZA.

Garn!

HIGGINS.

There! As the girl very properly says, Garn! Married indeed! Don't you know

that a woman of that class looks a worn out drudge of fifty a year after she's

married.

 

LIZA.

Who'd marry me?

HIGGINS

[suddenly resorting to the most thrillingly beautiful low tones in his best

elocutionary style] By George, Eliza, the streets will be strewn with the

bodies of men shooting themselves for your sake before I've done with you.

MRS. PEARCE.

Nonsense, sir. You mustn't talk like that to her.

LIZA

[rising and squaring herself determinedly] I'm going away. He's off his

chump, he is. I don't want no balmies teaching me.

HIGGINS

[wounded in his tenderest point by her insensibility to his elocution] Oh,

indeed! I'm mad, am I? Very well, Mrs. Pearce: you needn't order the new

clothes for her. Throw her out.

LIZA

[whimpering] Nah--ow. You got no right to touch me.

MRS. PEARCE.

You see now what comes of being saucy. [Indicating the door] This way,

please.

LIZA

[almost in tears] I didn't want no clothes. I wouldn't have taken them [she

throws away the handkerchief]. I can buy my own clothes.

HIGGINS

[deftly retrieving the handkerchief and intercepting her on her reluctant way

to the door] You're an ungrateful wicked girl. This is my return for offering

to take you out of the gutter and dress you beautifully and make a lady of

you.

 

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 ELIZA] 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 the Tower of

London, where your head will be cut off as a warning to other presumptuous

flower girls. If you are not found out, you shall have a present of seven-and sixpence

to start life with as a lady in a shop. If you refuse this offer you will

be a most ungrateful and wicked girl; and the angels will weep for you. [To

PICKERING] Now are you satisfied, Pickering? [To MRS. PEARCE] Can I put

it more plainly and fairly, Mrs. Pearce?

MRS. PEARCE

[patiently] I think you'd better let me speak to the girl properly in private. I

don't know that I can take charge of her or consent to the arrangement at all.

Of course I know you don't mean her any harm; but when you get what you

call interested in people's accents, you never think or care what may happen

to them or you. Come with me, Eliza.