Pygmailion Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Pygmailion script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie based on the George Bernard Shaw play.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Pygmailion. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Pygmailion Script





So long, ducks.

See you in Piccadilly.



So long, 'Liza.

Be good.






- They found a tarantula

in one last week.

- A what-a-tula?



A tarantula.

It's like a spider.



It's got six legs,

and it stings you with its tail.



What does it do

with its mouth?



Eats the bananas, man.



- Looks like rain.

- Yeah. A bit stormy, ain't it?



What can Freddy be doing

all this time?



He really ought to have

got us a taxi by now.










You won't get a taxi now, what with

the rain and the theater traffic.



Oh. Oh, here he is.



There's not a taxi to be had

for love or money.



- You haven't tried at all.

- You really are helpless, Freddy.



Go again, and don't come back

until you have found one.



I shall simply get

soaked for nothing.



What about us,

you selfish pig?



Oh, very well.

I'll go, I'll go.






Now then, Freddy,

look where you're goin', do ya?



Oh, all my violets

trod in the mud.



What did you

do that for?



As if I haven't got

enough to do.



How do you know that

my son's name is Freddy?



Oh, he's your son,

is he?



Well, if you'd done your duty

by him as a mother should,



he'd know better than

to spoil a poor girl's flowers

and run away without payin'.



- Well, uh, there's a shill...

sixpence for you.

- Oh.



Thank ya kindly, lady.



- Now will you tell me how

you know the young man's name?

- I don't.



But I heard you call him Freddy.

Now don't you try and deceive me.



Who's tryin'

to deceive you?



I calls him Freddy or Charlie,

same as you might yourself...



if you was talkin' to a stranger

and wished to be pleasant.



Come along, Mother.

Sixpence thrown away.



Oh, cheer up, Captain.



If it's raining worse,

it's a sign it's nearly over.



Come on, buy a flower

off a poor girl.



- Sorry, I haven't any change.

- Garn, Captain.

I can change half a crown.



Now don't be troublesome.

There's a good girl.



Here's a tuppence,

if that's any use to you.



- Taxi!

- Oh, thank you, Captain.



Be careful.

Give him a flower for it.



There's a bloke over there takin' down

every blessed word you're saying.



But I ain't done nothin' wrong

by speakin' to the gentleman.



- I'm a good girl, I am, so help me.

- What's she hollerin' about?



But I never spoke to him except

to ask him to buy a flower off me.



- What's the good of fussin'?

- What's the row?



What'd she do?



There's a "tec" takin' her down.

Him over there.



What you wanna take down

what I say for?



You just show me

what you wrote.



How do I know if you

took me down right?



Why, what's that?



That ain't

proper writin'.



I can't read that.



"Cheer up, Captain,

and buy a flower off a poor girl."



It's because

I called him "Captain."



Oh, but I meant

no harm.



Oh, sir,

don't let him charge me.



You don't know

what it means to me.



They'll take away my character

and drive me on the streets

for speakin' to a gentleman.




I make no charge.



Really, sir, you needn't start

protecting me from molestation.



Anyone can see

the girl meant no harm.



- Just mind your own business!

- Takin' down people's words!



What harm

did she do?



Who's hurting you, you silly girl?

What do you take me for?



It's all right.

He ain't a copper.



He's a gentleman.

Look at his boots!



Gentleman? Ha!

He's a busybody, that's what he is.



- How are all your people

down in Selsey?

- What?



And how do you come to be so far east?

You were born in Lisson Grove.



Oh. And what harm is in

my leaving Lisson Grove?



It wasn't fit for

a pig to live in,



and I had to pay

four and six a week.



Live where you like, but for

heaven's sake, stop making that noise.



No one's going to harm you. You have a

perfect right to live where you please.



Park Lane, for instance.



I'm a good girl, I am.



Here. Do you know

where I come from?






Well, who said I didn't?



Blimey, you know everything,

you do.



Where's your warrant?



Catch her tryin' to take

liberties with a gentleman.



Yes. Tell him where he comes from

if you want to go fortunetellin'.



Go on.



- Yes, go on, tell him.

- All right.



Cheltenham, Harrow,







- Quite right.

- Stupendous.



He's no gentleman, he ain't,

to interfere with a poor girl.



What can Freddy be doing?

I should get pneumonia if I

stay in this draft any longer.



- Earls Court.

- Will you keep your impertinent

remarks to yourself?



Did I say that out loud?

I'm so sorry.



- Your mother's Epsom, unmistakably.

- Well, how very curious.



I was brought up

in Large Lady Park, near Epsom.



That's a devil

of a name, isn't...



Oh, excuse me.

Are you looking for a cab?



- Don't you dare speak to me.

- Please, Clara.



Yes, we should be so grateful to you

if you could find us a cab.



I don't know whether you've noticed it,

but it stopped raining.



So it has.

Clara, we'll walk to a bus.



The cab...

Oh, how tiresome.



- I can tell where you come from.

- Can you?



Hanwell Insane Asylum.



Hanwell Insane.



Oh, thank you, teacher.

Oh, ho.



May I ask, sir, do you do this

for a living in a music hall?



I have thought of doing so.

Perhaps I shall someday.



Then how on Earth

do you do it?



Simply phonetics, the science of speech.

That's my profession.



- Is it?

- It's also my hobby.



You can spot a Yorkshireman

or an Irishman by his brogue.



But I can place any man

within six miles.



- I can place him within

two miles in London.



Sometimes, as in the case of this girl,

within two streets.



Let him mind

his own business...



and leave a poor girl

to mind her own business.



Woman, cease this detestable

boohooing instantly.



I've a right to be here

if I like, same as you.



A woman who utters such

depressing and disgusting sounds

has no right to be anywhere.



- Oh...

- Remember that you're

a human being with a soul...



and the divine gift

of articulate speech,



and that your language is the language

of Milton, Shakespeare and the Bible.



Don't sit there crooning

like a bilious pigeon.



- Oh!

- "Ow"!




what a sound.



You see this creature

with her curbstone English?



The English that will keep her

in the gutter for the rest of her days?



In three months I could

pass her off as a duchess...



- at an ambassador's reception.

- No, no, no.



I could even get her a job

as a lady's maid or a shop assistant,

which requires better English.



You mean,

you could make me...



Yes, you squashed

cabbage leaf.



You disgrace to the noble

architecture of these columns.



You incarnate insult

to the English language.



I could pass you off

as the Queen of Sheba.



Garn! You don't believe that,

do you, Captain?



Well, everything

is possible.



- I myself am a student

of Indian dialects.

- Are you?



Have you ever heard of

Colonel Pickering,

the author of Spoken Sanskrit?



- I am Colonel Pickering.

- No!



- Yes. Who are you?

- Henry Higgins.



- No.

- Yes. Author of

Higgins' Universal Alphabet.



- I came to India to meet you.

- And I was just going

all the way to India to meet you.



- Where are you staying?

- The Carlton.



No, you're not.

You're staying at   -A Wimpole Street.



Oh, buy a flower,

kind sir?



I'm short

for my lodging.



Oh, you liar. You just said

you could change half a crown.



You oughta be stuffed

with nails, you ought!



Here, take the whole

bloomin' basket for sixpence!



A reminder.






Come on, Pickering.

This is a wonderful meeting.



Oh! Oh!






Oh, excuse me. Have you seen those

two ladies who were here just now?



Oh, they went to the bus

when the rain stopped.



And left me with a cab

on my hands? Oh, blast!



Never mind, young man.

I'm goin' home in a taxi.



Here, here.

Wait a minute.



Eighteen pence ain't

no object to me, Charlie.



Buckingham Palace,

and step on it!



Bye, Freddy!



Well, I'll be dashed!



Here you are,

Buckingham Palace.



- How much, dearie?

- It'll cost you a bob.



You're a robber,

you are.



It's disgraceful.

A bob for two minutes!



Ever been in

a taxi before?



Hundreds and thousands

of times!













Hello, dearie.

Look what I got.



As you see,

my dear Pick,



the human ear is a perfect

recording and amplifying apparatus.



Well, tired of

listening to sounds?






I rather fancy myself because I can

pronounce    distinct vowel sounds.



Your     beat me. I can't hear

any difference between most of them.



Oh, it, uh,

comes from practice, you know.



I rather fancy myself because I can

pronounce    distinct vowel sounds.



Good heavens.

Is that me?



I can't hear any difference

between most of them.







For unsuspecting




- What is it, Mrs. Pearce?

- There's a young woman

wants to see you, sir.



- What's she want?

- She says you'll be glad when

you know what she's come about.



She's a very

common girl, sir.



I'd have got rid of her, only

you see such queer people sometimes.



- Has she an interesting accent?

- Just dreadful, sir.




Show her up at once.



This is really

a bit of luck.



We'll set her talking, and I'll

take it down in my phonetic shorthand.



Then we'll

get her on the machine.



- You can turn it on

as often as you like.

- Wait.



Here's the young

woman, sir.



Oh, it's you!

Oh, she's no use.



I've got all the records I want

of the Lisson Grove lingo.



Be off with you.

I don't want you.



Don't you be so saucy.

You ain't heard what I come for yet.



Did you tell him

I come in a taxi?



Do you think a gentleman like

Mr. Higgins cares what you came in?



Oh, we are proud,

aren't we?



He ain't above givin' lessons.

I heard him say so.



And if my money's not good enough,

I can go elsewhere.



- Good enough for what?

- Good enough for you.



So now you know,

don't you?



I'm come to have

lessons, I am.



And to pay for 'em too,

make no mistake.




I say, Pickering.



Shall we ask this object to sit down, or

shall we throw her out of the window?



I won't be called an object

when I've offered to pay like any lady.



What is it you want,

my dear?



I wanna be a lady

in a flower shop...



instead of selling

in Piccadilly Circus.



But they won't take me

unless I can talk more genteel.



Well, he said

he could teach me.



Here I am. I'm ready to pay.

I'm not askin' any favors.



And he treats me

as if I was dirt.



I know what lessons cost,

and I'm ready to pay.



- How much?

- Oh, now we're talkin'.



I thought you'd come off it

when you saw a chance of gettin' back...



a bit of the money

what you chucked at me last night.



- You'd had a drop, hadn't ya?

- Sit down.



Oh, if you're goin' to

make a compliment of it.



- Sit down!

- What's your name?



Eliza Doolittle.



Won't you sit down,

Miss Doolittle?



Oh. I don't mind

if I do.



How much do you propose

to pay me for the lessons?



Oh, I know

what's right.



A lady friend of mine,

she gets French lessons...



at    pence an hour

from a real French gentleman.



But you wouldn't have the nerve

to ask the same for teachin' me

me own language...



as what you would for French, so

I won't give you more than a shillin'.



- Take it or leave it.

- I, um...



I'll take it.



You know, Pickering,



a shilling to this girl is worth

   or    pounds to a millionaire.



It's handsome, enormous.

It's the biggest offer I've ever had.



- Sixty pounds?

What are you talkin' about?

- Hold your tongue.



- But I ain't got    pounds.

- Nobody's going to touch your money.



Someone's going to touch you with a

broomstick if you don't stop snivelling.



Anyone would think

he was my father.




I'm interested.



- What about that boast that

you could pass her off as a duchess?

- What about it?



I'd say you're the greatest

teacher alive if you make that good.



I'd bet you all the expenses

of the experiment you can't do it.



- And I'll pay for the lessons.

- Oh, you're real good.



- Come here. Sit down.

- Thank you, Captain.



This is almost




She's so

deliciously low,



so horribly dirty.



Oh! I ain't dirty.



I washed my face and hands

before I come, I did.



I shall make a duchess of this

draggle-tailed guttersnipe.






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 start today, this minute.

Mrs. Pearce, clean her.



Take off all her clothes

and burn them.



Order some new ones. Wrap her up

in brown paper till they come.



You're no gentleman, you ain't,

to talk of such things.



I'm a good girl, and I know

what the likes of you are.



We want none of your

slum prudery here, young woman.



You've got to learn to behave like

a duchess. Take her away, Mrs. Pearce.



- If she gives you trouble, wallop her.

- I'll call the police!



- I've no place to put her.

- Put her in the ashcan.



- You can't pick a girl up

as if picking a pebble off the beach.

- Why not?



- She may be married.

- Garn!



As the girl very

properly says, "Garn!"



- Who would marry me?

- By George, Eliza.



Before I'm done with you, the streets

will be strewn with the bodies of men...



shooting themselves

for your sake.



He's off his chump, he is.

I don't want no loonies teachin' me.



Oh, I'm mad, am I?

Very well, Mrs. Pearce, throw her out!



- Stop. I won't allow it.

Go home to your mother.

- I ain't got no mother.



She ain't got no mother.

The girl doesn't belong to anybody.



- She's no use to anybody but me.

- What's to become of her?



Is she to be paid anything?

Do be sensible.



What on Earth would she do with money?

She'll only drink if you give her money.



It's a lie! Nobody ever saw

a sign of liquor on me.



Doesn't it occur to you that

the girl has some feelings?



Oh, I don't think so.

Have you, Eliza?



I got my feelin's

the same as anyone else.



- See the difficulty?

- What difficulty?



- To get her to talk grammar.

- I don't want to talk grammar.

I want to talk like a lady.



Will you please keep

to the point, Mr. Higgins?



What's to become of her when

you've finished with her teaching?



- What's to become of her

if we leave her in the gutter?

- That's her business.



When we're finished,

we'll throw her back in the gutter.



You've no feelin' heart in you.

I'm goin' away. I've had enough of this.



You oughta be

ashamed of yourself!



Here, here, here,





Come here, Eliza.



Here, here, here,




Have a chocolate,




How do I know what

might be in them?



There's girls been drugged

by the like of you.



Pledge of

good faith, Eliza.



I wouldn't have ate it, only I'm

too ladylike to take it out of me mouth.



You shall have boxes

of 'em, Eliza.



You shall

live on them.



Now listen to me, Eliza.



You're going to live here

for six months...



and learn to speak beautifully

like a lady in a florist shop.



If you're good

and do whatever you're told,



you shall sleep in a proper bedroom,

have lots to eat...



and money to buy chocolates

and take rides in taxis.



If you're naughty

and idle,



you shall 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'll be taken by the guards

to the Tower of London,



where your head

will be cut off...



as a warning to other

presumptuous flower girls.



But if you

are not found out,



you will receive 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.



Now are you satisfied,




Can I put it more fairly,

Mrs. Pearce?



Bundle her off

to the bathroom.



You're a great bully, you are. And

I won't stay here if I don't like it.



I never asked to go

to Buckingham Palace.



If I'd known what I was lettin'

myself in for, I wouldn't have come.



Let's get clean.

You're dirty.



Dirty? I washed my face

and hands before I come, I did.!



I shall make a duchess of this

draggle-tailed guttersnipe.



It ain't natural!

I've never had a bath in me life!



Nonsense, Eliza.

Don't you want to be sweet

and clean and decent, like a lady?



You can't be a good girl inside

if you're a dirty girl outside.



- Now, away to your room and

take off all your clothes...

- It ain't decent!



Nonsense, girl. Don't you take

off all your clothes every night

before you go to your bed?



No. Why should I?

I'd catch me death.



I'll take off

me skirt.



- Eliza, now be a good child...

- No! No!



Get these off at once

and come back to me.



If I'd known what a dreadful thing it is

to be clean, I'd never have come!



I didn't know when I

was well off, I didn't!



It ain't decent!



- Come here.

- Oh, no, Mrs. Pearce.



- Come on.

- But I couldn't, really.



I've never done such a thing before,

really I didn't.









Now come on in

and tell me if the water's hot enough.



No, Mrs. Pearce, don't!

No! Help!



No, Mrs. Pearce! Stop it!

I'm getting wet!



Oh, help.!




I've never been

treated like this before!



Stop it!




Higgins, excuse

the straight question,



but are you a man of good character

where women are concerned?



Have you ever known a man of good

character where women are concerned?



- Yes, very frequently.

- Well, I haven't.



- I find...

- Breakfast is ready, sir.



I find that the moment I let

a woman make friends with me,



she becomes jealous, exacting,

and a confounded nuisance.



So I'm a confirmed old bachelor,

and likely to remain one.



- Coffee?

- Thanks. You know what I mean.



I hope it's understood that no advantage

is to be taken of her position.



What? That thing?

Sacred, I assure you.



I've taught scores of American

millionairesses to speak English.



The best looking women in the world.

I'm seasoned.



They might just as well

be blocks of wood.



Excuse me,

Mr. Higgins.



- I'd like to trouble you if I may.

- Yes?



Will you be very particular

what you say before the girl?



- I'm always particular about what I say.

- Oh, no, sir.



It doesn't matter before me.

I'm used to it.



But you really must not

swear before the girl.



- I never swear!

What the devil do you mean?

- That's what I mean.



- I don't mind your damning

and your blasting,

- Mrs. Pearce.



But there's a certain word

I must ask you not to use.



The girl used it in the bath

because the water was too hot.



It begins with the

same letter as "bath."



I cannot charge myself

with ever having uttered it,



except perhaps in moments of

extreme and justifiable excitement.



Only this morning, sir,

you applied it to the boots,



the butter,

and to the brown bread.



Oh, that. A mere alliteration.

Natural to a point.



- Is that all?

- No, sir.



You'll have to be very particular

with this girl

as to her personal cleanliness.



Yes, certainly, certainly.

Most important.



And might I ask you not to come

down to breakfast in your dressing gown,



or not to use it

as a table napkin if you do?



And will you please remember

not to put the porridge saucepan...



onto the clean




I hope you're not

offended, sir.



No, not at all.

Not at all, Mrs. Pearce.



- Is that all?

- Oh, no, sir.



I really don't think I can

put the girl back into these.



Might she wear one of those Chinese

garments you brought back from abroad?



Certainly, certainly.

What the devil's that?



Oh, don't burn that.

We'll keep that as a souvenir.



You know, that... that woman has

the most extraordinary ideas about me.



Here am l... a shy,

diffident sort of man.



Yet she's firmly persuaded

that I'm a bossy, arbitrary,

overbearing kind of person.



How do you

account for that?



- I can't imagine.

- I can't imagine either.



I'm afraid I've got to tell you, sir,

that the trouble's beginning already.



There's a dustman outside,

Alfred Doolittle.



He says you've got his daughter here.

I don't like the looks of him.



- Show the blackguard in!

- He may not be a blackguard.



Of course

he's a blackguard.



- We may get something

interesting out of him.

- About the girl?



- No. I mean his dialect.

- Doolittle, sir.



- Professor Higgins?

- Here. Good morning.



Sit down.



Morning, guvnor.



- I come about a very

serious matter, guvnor.

- Brought up in Hounslow.



Mother Welsh,

I should imagine.



What do you want,




I want my daughter.

That's what I want.



Well, of course you do.



I'm glad to see you have

some spark of family feeling left.



Your daughter's

upstairs. Here.



- Take her away at once.

- What?



Now look here, guvnor.

Is this reasonable? Is it fairity?



The girl belongs to me.

You've got her. Where do I come in?



How dare you come here

and try to blackmail me!



- You sent her here on purpose.

- No, no, no.



This is a plot, a plant,

an attempt to extort money by threats.



- I shall telephone the police.

- Have I asked you for a brass farthing?



I leave it to

the gentleman here.



- Have I said a word about money?

- What else did you come for?



I'll tell you,

if you'll let me get a word in.



I'm willing to tell ya.

I'm wanting to tell ya.



I'm waiting to tell ya.



This fellow has a certain

natural gift of rhetoric.



Observe the rhythm of

his native woodnotes wild:



"I'm willing to tell you. I'm wanting

to tell you. I'm waiting to tell you."



The Welsh strain

in him.



How do you know the girl's here

if you didn't send her?



She sent back for

her luggage, guvnor.




What luggage?



There was a musical instrument,

a few pictures,



a trifle of jewelry

and a bird cage.



She said as how she didn't

want no clothes.



What was I to think

from that?



I ask you as a parient,

what was I to think?



So you came to rescue her

from worse than death?



Yes, that's right.

Just so.



Mrs. Pearce,

this is Eliza's father.



He's come to rescue her

from worse than death.



- Give her to him.

- No...



He can't take her away.

How can he?



- You told me to burn all her clothes.

- That's right.



I can't carry the girl

through the streets as if she

was a bloomin' monkey, can I?



Where's the clothes

she come in?



Did I burn 'em,

or did your missus here?



Listen, guvnor.



You and me, we're men

of the world, ain't we?



We're men of

the world, are we?



- You'd better go, Mrs. Pearce.

- I should think so indeed.



The floor is yours,




I thank you kindly,




To tell you the truth,

I've taken a sort of fancy to you.



Well, that's...



And if you want the girl,

I'm not so set in havin'her back home.



But what I might be open to

is an arrangement.



Regarding the light of a young woman,

she's a fine, handsome girl.



As a daughter, she ain't worth a keeper,

I'll tell you straight.



All I ask from you

is my rights as a father.



You're the last man in the world who'd

expect me to let her go for nothing.



You're one of the straight sort,

you are. Oh, I can see that.



Well, what's

a five-pound note to you?



And what's Eliza to me?



I think you ought to know

that Mr. Higgins' intentions

are entirely honorable.



Of course they are, guvnor.

Of course they are.



If I thought they wasn't,

I'd ask   .



Why, you callous rascal.



Do you mean to say you'd sell

your daughter for    pounds?



No, no, not in a general

sort of way I wouldn't.



But to oblige a gentleman like you,

I'd do a good deal, I do assure you.



Have you

no morals, man?



I can't afford 'em, guvnor.



Well, neither could you

if you's as poor as me.



I don't mean no harm,



but if Eliza's gonna have a bit

out of this, why not me too?



As a matter of morals, it's a positive

crime to give this chap a farthing,



but I do feel a sort of

rough justice in his claim.



That's right, guvnor.

It's a father's heart, as it were.



I know the feeling,

yet it hardly seems right.



No, no, don't look at it

that way, guvnor.



What am I, guvnors both?

I ask you, what am I?



Well, what are you?



I'm one of the undeservin' poor,

that's what I am.



Well, think what

that means to a man.



It means he's up against

middle-class morality all the time!



If there's anything

going, I puts in for a bit of it.



It's always

the same story.



You're undeservin',

so you can't have any.



And yet my needs is as great

as the most deserving widows...



that ever got money out of

six different charities in one week...



for the death

of the same husband.



I don't need less than

the deserving man. I need more.



I don't eat less hearty

than he does.



And I drink

a lot more.



So I puts it to you two gentlemen,

don't play that game on me.



I'm playin' straight

with you.



I ain't pretendin' to be deservin'.

I'm undeservin'.



And I mean to go on bein'

undeservin'. I likes it.



Sit down,




Would you deny to a man

the price of his own daughter...



what he's brought up,

he's fed,



he's clothed

by the sweat of his brow...



until she growed

big enough...



to be interesting

to you two gentlemen?



Well, is five pounds




I puts it to ya

and I leaves it to ya.



Pickering, here.

Shall we give him a fiver?



- He'll make bad use of it.

- No, no. So help me, guvnor.



I shan't save it, spare it

or live idle on it.



There won't be a penny

of it left on Monday.



Just one good spree

for myself and the missus.



This is irresistible.

Let's give him ten.



No, no, no.

Thank you kindly, guvnor.



Ten pounds is a lot of money.

Makes a man feel prudent-like.



And then good-bye

to happiness.



Just give me what I ask, guvnor.

Not a penny more, not a penny less.



You're sure

you won't take ten?



- No, not now, guvnor.

- Come on, come on.



Another time perhaps.

Thank you kindly, guvnor.






Thank you,

guvnors both.



Pardon, Miss.



Garn. Don't you know

your own daughter?



Blimey, it's Eliza!



I never thought

she'd clean up so good lookin'.



She's a credit to me,

ain't she, guvnor?



She'll soon pick up

your free and easy ways.



I'm a good girl, I am, and I won't

pick up no free and easy ways.



If you say again you're a good girl,

your father shall take you home.



You don't know my father.



All he come here for was to touch you

for some money to get drunk on.



What else would

I want money for?



- Put in the plate in church?

- Hmm.



Don't you give me

none of your lip.



Don't let me hear you giving

any of these gentlemen none either.



You'll hear from me

about it, see?



Have you any further advice

to give her, Doolittle?

Your blessing, for instance?



No, guvnor, not me.



I'm not such a mug as to put up

my kids to all I know myself.



If you want Eliza's mind improved,

guvnor, do it yourself.



With a strap.



Well, so long,







"Ah. Ah."

Like "father."



"E. E."



As in "machine."



Repeat after me.



- A. A.

- A. E.



The rain in Spain...



The rain in Spain...



...stays mainly

in the plains.



...stays mainly

in the plains.



The rain in Spain

stays mainly in the plains.



The rain in Spain

stays mainly in the plains.



Now, Eliza, you see

these three marbles?



- Yes.

- I want you to put them in your mouth.



One, two, three.



Now, don't be alarmed.

It's just an exercise.



Now then,

repeat slowly after me:



The shallow depression

in the west of these islands...



is likely to move slowly

in a westerly direction.



The shallow depression

in the west of these islands...



is likely to move in...



- I swallowed one!

- Don't worry. We have plenty more.



The shallow depression

in the west of these islands...



is likely to move slowly

in a more easterly direction.



Hampshire, Hereford,




Hampshire, Hereford...



- Lumme, it jumps.

- And so it will, Eliza.



Every time you say

"hah" correctly.



Now then,

try once again.



In Hampshire, Hereford and Hartford,

hurricanes hardly ever happen.



In Hampshire,

Hereford, Hartford,




hardly ever happen.



Hardly ever




Hardly ever happen.






How do you do?



Bad, bad, bad!

Do it again.



You aren't trying. Do it again.



That's not good,




It's not bad.



- Now's the time to try

her out on somebody.

- Well...



I know.

My mother.



- Henry.

- Hello, dear.



What are you doing here today?

This is my home day.



- You promised not to come.

- Oh, bother.



- Go home at once.

- But I came here on purpose.



- I picked up a girl.

- You mean a girl has picked you up.



- No, no, this isn't a love affair.

- Oh, what a pity.



- Why?

- You never fall in love

with anyone under   .



I can't waste my time with young women.

They're all such idiots.



You know what you'd do

if you really loved me, Henry?



- Get married, I suppose.

- No.



Stop fidgeting. And take

your hands out of your pockets.



- Ah.

- Don't sit on that table.!

You'll break it.



Come and tell me

about the girl.



Look here. She's coming

to see you this afternoon.



I don't remember

asking her.



- You didn't, and you wouldn't

have if you'd known her.

- Indeed. Why?



She's a common flower girl.

I picked her up in Covent Garden.



You've asked her here?



Don't worry.

I've taught her to speak properly.



She'll stick to two subjects:

The weather and everybody's health.



- "Fine day," "How do you do?"

And all that.

- That's a blessing anyway.



Well, um, it is...

and it isn't.



What do you mean

by that?



You see, dear, I've got

her pronunciation all right,



but you've got to consider not

only how the girl pronounces,

but what she pronounces.



- Mrs. And Miss Eynsford Hill,

Mr. Eynsford Hill.

- Oh, heavens.



- So good of you to come.

- Dear.



- Freddy.

- How do you do?



You know my son.




My son Henry.



- Miss Hill. Mrs. Hill.

- Delighted. Enchanted.



- Mr. Hill.

- Thank you.



Your celebrated son? I've always so

longed to meet you, Professor Higgins.



I've seen your face somewhere.

I haven't a ghost of a notion where.



It doesn't really matter.

Mother, look here...



I'm sorry to say

my celebrated son has no manners.



- You mustn't mind him.

- I don't.



- Colonel Pickering.

- How do you do, Mrs. Higgins?



- The Reverend and Mrs. Birchwood.

- What, more of them?



- How do you do? Vicar.

- How do you do?



- Have you told your mother

what we've come for?

- We were interrupted, damn it.



- Are we in the way?

- No, not at all.



No, by George!

We need two or three extra people.



You'll do as well

as anyone else. Sit down.



Will you excuse me?

Colonel Pickering, Henry.



What are you doing

with my hat?



Colonel Pickering, I must know. What is

the exact position in Wimpole Street?



- Is this girl a servant?

If not, what is she?

- Major and Mrs. Rawcroft.



My dear Mrs. Higgins,

I really must tell you.



The whole thing is

extraordinarily interesting.



This is the most absorbing

experiment I've ever tackled.



- This girl regularly fills our lives.

- We're always talking Eliza.



- Teaching Eliza.

- Dressing Eliza.

- What?



She has the most amazingly quick ear

you ever heard of, just like a parrot.



- The girl is a genius.

- I've taught her the most

inconceivable sounds.



You see?



Oh, yes.

It's quite clear to me.



Miss Doolittle.



How do you do,

Mrs. Higgins?



Professor Higgins

said I might come.



Quite right, my dear.

I'm delighted to see you.



Colonel Pickering,

is it not?



How do you do,

Miss Doolittle?







Stick to the weather

and your health.



Mrs. Hill,

Miss Doolittle.



I feel as though we've met before.

I remember your eyes.



- How do you do?

- By George, it all comes back.



Covent Garden.

What a confounded thing.



My son, Freddy.



- How do you do?

- How do you do?



I'm sure I've had

the pleasure somewhere.



Uh, will it rain,

do you think?



The rain in Spain, they say,

stays mainly in the plains.



They say.



How too true,

Miss Doolittle. But in...



Hampshire, Hereford

and Hartford,




hardly ever happen.



- Do they?

- Hardly ever, Miss Doolittle.



How awfully funny!



What is wrong with that, young man?

I bet I got it right.






Oh, excuse me.



I hope it won't turn cold.

There's so much influenza about.



It runs right through

our family every spring.



My aunt died

of influenza.



So they say.



But it is my belief as how

they done the old woman in.



Done her in?



Yes, Lord love you.



Why should she die of influenza

when she come through diphtheria

right enough the year before?



Perhaps it wasn't diphtheria.

You see, Vicar...



Oh, but I saw her

with my own eyes.



Fairly blue with it

she was.



They all thought

she was dead,



but my father, he kept

ladling gin down her throat...



till she come through so sudden,

that she bit the bowl off the spoon.



Dear me!



Now, what call would a woman

with that strength in her...



have to die

of influenza?






And what become

of her new straw hat...



that should have

come to me?



Well, what?



Somebody pinched it.



And what I says is,



them what pinched it

done her in.



Done her in?



- Could you tell me...

- It's just the new slang, Vicar.



But, uh, you surely don't believe

that your aunt was-was killed.



Do I not?



Them she lived with would have killed

her for a hat pin, let alone a hat.



But it couldn't have been right

for your father...



to have poured spirits

down her throat like that.



- Now, that might have killed her.

- Not her.



Gin was mother's milk to her.



Besides, he'd poured so much down his

own throat that he knew the good of it.



- How terrible for you.

- It never did him no harm,

what I could see.



He was always more agreeable

when he had a drop in him.



When he was

out of work,



my mother used to

give him two at a kick...



and tell him to go out

and to not come home...



until he'd drunk himself

cheerful and loving like.






There's lots of women

has to make their husbands drunk

to make them fit to live with.



Here. What are you

snickering at?



The new slang,

you do it so awfully well.



If I was doing it proper,

what was you laughing at?



Have I said anything

I oughtn't?



No, not a thing,

Miss Doolittle.



Well, that's

a mercy anyhow.



What I always says is...






I must go now.




Mrs. Higgins.



- So glad to have met you.

- Good-bye, my dear.







- Good-bye, Colonel Pickering.

- Good-bye, Miss Doolittle.






Good-bye, all.



E- Excuse me, Miss Doolittle, but

would you be walking across the park?



- 'Cause if so...

- Walk? Not bloody likely.



I'm going in a taxi.



Oh, it's no use.



I shall never be able to

bring myself to use that word.



Oh, don't.



It isn't compulsory,

you know.



Say what you like,

but I was ashamed.



You ought never

to have done it.



Perhaps we were a bit hasty,

but I'll soon put that right.



It's no use, Higgins.

You'll have to face it.

It isn't fair on the poor girl.



- You'd better call the whole thing off.

- Nonsense.



I said I'd pass the guttersnipe

off as a duchess,



and pass her off

as a duchess I will.



Here. You see that?



It's an invitation from

the Transylvanian embassy.

I'm going to take her there.



- You're mad.

- I tell you, that girl can do anything.



Eliza. Eliza!



Stop sniveling, girl!



Eliza, shall I give you

another chance?



Will you work?






No, no, no!

Do it again!



- I'll try.

- No, no, no!



I've told you     times!

You drive me mad, girl.



- Come, Higgins, be reasonable.

- Once more.






- I'm Mr. Freddy Hill

to see Miss Doolittle.

- I'll inquire, sir.



- Thanks.

- Throw him out!



Now listen, Eliza.



She's engaged.



Miss Doolittle.



Oh! Why can't you

do it like this?



- He's here again.

- Well, throw him out.



Come on, now. Both together.

One, two, three.



That's better.



Listen carefully, Eliza.

"How kind of you to let me come."



Now listen.



- Say it.

- How kind of you to let me come.



No, no.

Do it again.



How kind of you

to let me come.



- Oh, it's Mr...

- I know.



He's here again.



No good, sir.



May I have the pleasure,

Miss Doolittle?



Get up, girl.

"Yes, I'd be delighted."



- I'd be delighted.

- Come on then.



One, two, three. One, two, three.

One, two, three.



One, two, three. One, two, three.

One, two, three.



She has no sense of timing.

Now watch me with Pickering.



One, two, three. One, two, three.

One, two, three.



One, two, three. One, two, three.

One, two, three.



Do you see what I mean?

Now, once again.



"Silent soup drinking is one

of the hallmarks of a lady."



Wake up, Eliza.

How do you address an ambassador?



- Your Excellency.

- Right.



Now imagine yourself standing before an

archbishop. How would you address him?



- Your Honor.

- No, no, no.!



An archbishop,

not the pope.



- Your Worship.

- No.!



- Your Majesty.

- Right.



- Now then, an ambassador.

- Your Excellency.



- An archbishop.

- Your Grace.



- The Queen. An archduke.

- Your Majesty.



Oh, help.



- It's  :   Mr. Higgins.

- Is that all?



Now then, we start all over

again from the beginning.



- An ambassador.

- Your Excellency.



- An archbishop. The Queen.

- Your Grace. Your Majesty.



- An archduke. A cardinal.

- Your Honor. Your Reverence.



- Come on, Eliza!

- I don't know.



It's half past four,

Mr. Higgins.



We will now start the whole thing

over from the beginning.



Oh, I can't.

I can't.



If I can do it with a splitting

headache, you can do it.



But I've got a headache.

I can't.



Here, take this!



Now then,

an ambassador.



Oh, His Excellency!



Come, Higgins.

Be reasonable.



I'm always




Now then,

the time has come.



Send for dressmakers,

hairdressers, makeup artists,



manicurists, and all

the rest of the parasites.



Did you ever

see the like?



Ah, I have it.

Camellia, camellia, camellia.



- There. You see?

- No.



- Le Fleur?

- No, no.



More mud there.



- Aren't you ready yet?

- Almost.



- Nervous?

- Yes, very. Aren't you?



No, not a bit of it.



Not a bit of it.







- You remember me.

- No, I don't. Where have we met?



But I'm your pupil,

your best and greatest pupil.



I've made your name famous

throughout Europe.



You teach me phonetics. You cannot

forget me. I am Aristid Karpathy.



Are you Aristid?

Why the devil don't you cut your hair?



If I cut my hair

nobody notices me.



I have not your imposing appearance,

your chin, your brow.



What are you doing here

among all these swells?



I am indispensable

at these international parties.



You can place a man anywhere in London

the moment he opens his mouth.



- I can place a man anywhere in Europe.

- Excuse me, sir.



You're wanted upstairs. Her Excellency

cannot understand the Greek gentleman.




I'll come at once.



This Greek diplomat who pretends

he cannot speak or understand English.



He cannot

deceive me.



A tout a I'heure,

Mon Vieux.



- Is that Karpathy fellow

really an expert?

- My best pupil.



But heaven help the master

who's judged by his disciples.



If he meets Eliza, we're done.

Let's go home.



Home? Rubbish!

That idiot?



Well, Eliza,

now we're in for it.



Are you ready?

Come on.



If that fellow finds out

about Eliza, he'll blackmail us.



Let him try.



Her Grace, the Duchess of Kerr.



Admiral Sir Charles Brown Phelby.



Miss Elizabeth Doolittle,

Colonel Pickering,



Professor Higgins.



- How do you do, Colonel Pickering?

- How do you do?



- May I present Miss Elizabeth Doolittle.

- How do you do?



How kind of you

to let me come.



Oh, not at all.



- Good evening.

- Oh, Professor. Good evening.



Who is this charming girl

you've brought?



- Is she a relation?

- Not of mine, no.



She has such a faraway look,

as if she has always lived in a garden.



So she has,

a sort of garden.



There is one thing I have observed

about the English, Duchess.



- And that is...

- Yes, I adore observing the English.



Let's go and observe them now.

Come along, George.



Oh, dear.

Such a bore about the English.



And quite wrong,

like every ambassador.



Look, there's dear old

Lily Fantail...



with the whole of

a garden on her head.



You have a live one

here tonight.



He introduced himself as your pupil.

Is he any good?



He can learn a language

in a fortnight.



Knows dozens of them...

the sure mark of a fool.



Your Excellency's interested

in Miss Doolittle?






- Could you find out who she is?

- Excellency.



Lord Wilshim and Lady Wilshim.



I feel like Noah standing on the bridge,

watching the loading of the arc.



You know,

two of everything.



- Colonel Pickering...

- Tell me more about

your Greek gentleman friend.



Gentleman? He's the son

of a Clerkenwell watchmaker.



He speaks English

so villainously...



that he dare not utter a word of it

without betraying his origin.



I help him to pretend,



but I make him pay

through the nose.



I make them all pay.



And now, Professor Higgins,

I should be delighted...



if you would present me

to this Miss Doolittle.



Oh, no, you don't. Can't you see

she's talking to a duchess?







The very man I've been dying to meet.

I'm Ysabel of the Sun.



Perfide of

the Globe.



What extraordinary people

seem to get in everywhere nowadays.






Colonel Pickering,

unfortunately we were interrupted.



- Would you be so kind

as to introduce me?

- Well, l...



You remember you were so kind as

to address the Guild of Lady Orators?



- Excuse me, but l...

- No, this time you're ours.






- I don't believe it's true.

- It is, my darling.



- One thing more...

- Do tell us.



I have found out

all about her.



- Well?

- She's a...






- I say, Pickering,

do you know what's happened...






Miss Doolittle, Madam.



My dear fellow, I hope you don't think

any truth to that Karpathy chap.



Nonsense, but the game's all up.

He's found out all about her.



I say, Pick,

look at that.



- Who is she?

- I can't imagine.



My child, my son would

very much like to dance with you.



If I may be allowed the honor.



When he gives the game away

to the ambassadress,

there'll be the deuce of a row.



I wouldn't miss it

for the world. Excuse me.



- Come on, Aristid.

You've got to tell us.

- No.



- Tell us all you know

about this Miss Doolittle.

- No, that is my secret.



But I will tell

Your Excellency.



She has a right to know

who Miss Doolittle is. She is a...



- Film star.

- Oh, no. She's a fraud.



- A fraud?

- Oh, no.

- Yes, yes.



- She cannot deceive me.

Her name cannot be Doolittle.

- Why?



Because Doolittle is an English name,

and she is not English.



- But she speaks it perfectly.

- Too perfectly.



Can you show me any Englishwoman who

speaks English as it should be spoken?



There is no such thing.

The English do not know

how to speak their own language.



Only foreigners who have been

taught to speak it speak it well.



- Yes, there's something in that.

- But if she's not English, what is she?



- Hungarian.

- Hungarian?



Yes, Hungarian,

and of royal blood.



I am Hungarian.

My blood is royal.



- Did you speak to her in Hungarian?

- I did. She was very clever.



She said, "Please speak to me in

English. I do not understand French."



French! She pretended not to know the

difference between Hungarian and French.



- Nonsense. She knows both.

- And the blood royal,

how did you find that out?



Instinct, maestro.




Only the Hungarian Magyar race can

produce that heir of the divine right...



those high cheekbones,

those resolute eyes.



She is... a princess.



- Now I know who it is.

- Who?






Look at that profile.

It's the old duke exactly.



- What do you say, Professor?

- I?



I say an ordinary Cockney girl

out of the gutter.



- I place her in Covent Garden.

- Maestro, maestro!



You are mad on the subject

of Cockney dialects.



The London gutter

is the whole world for you.



- This girl is undoubtedly a p...

- A princess?



Hmm. Have it

your own way, maestro.



Have it your own way.



I say, Pick. Lock up, will you?

I shan't be going out again.



Did Mrs. Pearce go to bed?

We shan't want anything else, shall we?



- No, no, no.

- Mrs. Pearce will have a row

if we leave these lying here.



- She'll pick 'em up.

She'll think we were drunk.

- We are... slightly.



- Were there any letters?

- Didn't look.



Heavens, what an evening.

What a crew.



What silly tomfoolery.

Thank God it's all over.



- Where the devil are my slippers?

- You won your bet.



Eliza did the trick,

and something to spare.



It was interesting at first,

but afterwards I got sick of it.



The whole thing's been

a perfect bore.



- The reception was frightfully exciting.

- For the first three minutes.



But as soon as I saw we were going

to win hands down, I lost interest.



No more artificial duchesses for me...

They're there, are they?



I must say,

Eliza did it awfully well.



Lots of real people

can't do it at all.



The silly fools don't even know

their own silly business.



That's all over. Now I can go to bed

without dreading tomorrow.



I shall turn in too. Still,

it's been a great triumph for you.



Yes, it has, now.



- Good night. Good night, Eliza.

- Good night.



Put out the lights, Eliza.

And tell Mrs. Pearce not to

bring me coffee in the morning.



I'll take tea.



Where on Earth

did I put my slippers?



There are your slippers!

And there!



Take your slippers! And may you

never have a day's luck with them!



What's the matter? Anything wrong?



No, nothing wrong with you.



I've won your bet for you, haven't I?

That's all that counts.



I don't matter,

I suppose.



You won my bet? You?

You presumptuous insect, I won it.



Why did you throw

those slippers at me?



Because I wanted

to smash your face in.



I'd like to kill you,

you brute.



Why didn't you leave me

where you found me, in the gutter?



You thank God it's all over and

that you can throw me back again there.



Well, well, well,

the creature is nervous after all.



Would you? Don't you dare show your

temper to me! Sit down and be quiet!



What's to become of me?

What's to become of me?



How the devil do I know? What does

it matter what becomes of you?



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.

- "Those" slippers.



Those... slippers.



Didn't think it made

any difference now.



- May I ask whether you complain

of your treatment here?

- No.



Has anyone behaved

badly to you?



- Colonel Pickering, Mrs. Pearce,

any of the servants?

- No.



I presume you don't pretend

that I've treated you badly.



- No.

- Ah. Well, I'm glad

to hear that anyway.



Probably you're tired

after the strain of the day.



- Here. Have a chocolate.

- No!



- No?

- No! Thank you.



Well, it's all over now.

There's nothing more to worry about.






Nothing more

for you to worry about.



Oh, God...

I wish I was dead.




In Heaven's name, why?



Now, listen to me, Eliza.



All this irritation

is purely subjective.



I don't understand.

I'm too ignorant.



It's only imagination,

low spirits, nothing more.



Nobody's trying to hurt you.

Nothing's wrong.



Now, you go to bed like a good girl

and sleep it off.



Have a little cry and say your prayers

and... that'll make you comfortable.



I heard your prayers...



"Thank God

it's all over. "



Well, don't you thank God it's all over?

You're free. You can do what you like.



What am I fit for?

What have you left me fit for?



Where am I to go?

What am I to do?



What's to become of me?



Oh, so that's what's

worrying you, is it?



Oh, you'll settle down

somewhere or other.



But I hadn't

quite realized...



that you were going away.



You might marry, you know.



You're not bad-looking.



It's quite a pleasure

to look at you sometimes.



Of course, now you've been crying, you

look as ugly as the very devil, but...



when you're quite all right

and yourself,



you're what I

should call attractive.



That is, to people in

the marrying line, you understand.



Now, you go to bed

and have a good night's rest.



Get up in the morning and look

at yourself in the glass,

and you won't feel so cheap.



I daresay my mother could find

some chap or other who'd do very well.



- We were above that in Covent Garden.

- What do you mean?



I sold flowers.

I didn't sell myself.



Now you've made a lady of me,

I'm not fit to sell anything else.



I wish you'd left me

where you found me.



But you don't have to marry the fellow

if you don't like him.



- What else am I to do?

- Lots of things.



How about your old idea of a florist

shop? Pickering could set you up.



He's got lots of money.



Oh, you'll be all right.



I must clear off to bed.

I'm devilish sleepy.



By the way, I came here for something.

I forget what it was.



Your slippers.



Oh, yes, of course.



You shied them at me.



- Before you go, sir...

- Eh?



Do my clothes belong to me

or to Colonel Pickering?



What use should they be

to Pickering?



You might want them for the next girl

you pick up to experiment on.



Is that the way

you feel towards us?



I don't want to hear

any more about that.



All I want to know is what

belongs to me and what doesn't.

My own clothes were burned.



What's it matter? Why start bothering

about that in the middle of the night?



I want to know what I

may take away with me.



- I don't want to be accused of stealing.

- Stealing?



Eliza, you shouldn't have said that.

That shows a want of feeling.



I'm sorry. I'm only a common,

ignorant girl.



And in my station,

I have to be careful.



There can't be any feelings between

the like of you and the like of me.



Will you please tell me

what belongs to me and what doesn't?



Oh, you can keep the whole

confounded houseful if you like.



All except the jewels. They're hired.

Will that satisfy you?



Stop, please. Will you take these

to your room and keep them safe?



- I don't want to run the risk

of them being missing.



Hand 'em over.



If these belonged to me

instead of the jeweler,

I'd ram 'em down your ungrateful throat.



This ring...



It isn't the jeweler'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




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.






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.



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.



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







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 joke of the kind.



You might well call it

a silly joke.



L- 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

     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      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?




- 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

should be very unhappy if you forgot me.



It was from you

that I learned nice manners.



- And that's what makes one

a lady, isn't it?

- Ha!



That's what makes

the difference, after all.



No doubt. Still, he taught you

to speak. I couldn't have done that.



Of course.

That was his profession.



It was just like... learning to dance

in the fashionable way.



Nothing more

than that in it.



- Do you know what began

my real education?

- No.



Your calling me

Miss Doolittle...



that day when I first came

to Wimpole Street.



That was the beginning

of self-respect for me.



You see, the difference between a lady

and a flower girl isn't how she behaves.



It's how she's treated.



Now, I know that I shall always be

a flower girl to Professor Higgins...



because he always treats me

as a flower girl and always will.



Don't grind your teeth, Henry.



But I know that I can be

a lady to you...



because you always treat me

as a lady, and always will.



That's very nice of you

to say so, Miss Doolittle.



I should like you to call me

Eliza now if you would.



Thank you.






Of course.



And I should like Professor Higgins

to call me Miss Doolittle.



- I'll see you damned first.

- Henry. Henry.



You're coming back,

aren't you? You'll forgive Higgins.



Forgive? Will she, by George!

Let her go.



Let her find out

what it's like to be without us.



In three weeks, she'll relapse back

into the gutter without me at her elbow.



You won't relapse,

will you?



No, never again.



I don't believe I could utter

one of those old sounds if I tried.






Ha, ha.! What did I tell you?







Ow. Ow.



Ow, ow, ow.



- Henry!

- Ow!



Eliza, it ain't my fault.



Your stepmother...




Look, Henry... Oh.



- Colonel, I'm gettin' late

for the weddin'.

- Wedding? What wedding?



- Mine.

- Yours?



Yes. In spite of all

I've said and done, my wife...



she's going to marry me.



I'm feeling uncommon nervous

about the ceremony, guvnor.



- Wish you'd come and put me through it.

- You've been through it before.



- You were married to Eliza's mother.

- Who told you that, guvnor?



- Nobody told me,

but I concluded naturally.

- No, no.



That ain't

the natural way, guvnor.



That's only

the middle-class way.



Don't tell Eliza.

She don't know.



- I always had a sort of delicacy

about tellin' her.

- Quite right.



Will you come to the church

and see me through straight?



With pleasure,

as far as a bachelor can.



May I come too?

I'd be very sorry to miss your wedding.



We should indeed be honored

by your condescension, ma'am.



My poor old woman, she'd look upon it

as a tremend-uous compliment.



She's been

very low lately,



thinking of the happy days

that are no more.



Eliza? Your stepmum

is going to marry me.



Will you come to the church

and see me turned out?



I've ordered

the car, dear.



Wait for me. Colonel Pickering

can go with the bridegroom.






What a word.



Makes a man realize

his position somehow.



So long.

See you at the church.



Middle-class morality

claims its victim.






Well, Eliza, you've had a bit of

your own back now, as you call it.



You had enough? Are you going to be

reasonable? Or do you want some more?



You want me back

only to put up with your tempers...



and pick up your slippers

and fetch and carry for you.



- I haven't said

I wanted you back at all.

- Then what are we talking about?



About you, not about me.



If you come back to me,

I shall treat you just the same

as I've always treated you.



I can't change my nature,

and I don't intend to change my manners.



- My manners are exactly the same

as Colonel Pickering's.

- That's not true.



He treats a flower girl

as if she were a duchess.



I treat a duchess as if

she were a flower girl!



I see.

The same to everyone.



I don't care

how you treat me.



I don't mind

your swearing at me.



I don't mind a black eye.

I've had one before this, but...



I won't be passed over!



Then get out of my way,

for I won't stop for you.



- You talk to me as if I were a bus.

- So you are a bus.



All bounce and go

and no consideration for anyone.



Once and for all, understand

that I go my way and do my work...



without caring a tuppence

what happens to either of us.



So you can come back or go

to the devil, whichever you please.



- And what am I to come back for?

- For the fun of it.



That's what

I took you on for.



And you can throw me out tomorrow if

I don't do everything you want me to?



You can walk out tomorrow

if I don't do everything you want me to.



- And live with my stepmother?

- Yes.



Or sell flowers.

Or would you rather marry Pickering?



I wouldn't marry you

if you asked me, and you're

nearer my age then what he is.



Than he is.



I'll speak as I like.



You're not my teacher now.



I don't know that Pickering

would, though.



He's as confirmed

an old bachelor as I am.



That's not what I want,

and don't you think it.



I've always had chaps

wanting me that way.



Freddy Hill writes to me

twice and three times a day.



- Sheets and sheets.

- Blast his impudence!



He has a right to if he likes, poor lad.

And he does love me.



You have no right

to encourage him.



- Every girl has a right to be loved.

- By fools like that?



Freddy's not a fool!

If he's weak and poor and wants me,



maybe he'd make me happier

than my betters...



who bully me

and don't want me.



I can do without you.

Don't think I can't.



You've never asked,

I suppose,



whether I could do

without you.



You'll have to do

without me.



I can do without anybody!



I have my own soul,

my own spark of divine fire.



But, uh,

I shall miss you, Eliza.



I confess that humbly

and gratefully.



I've become accustomed

to your voice and appearance.



I even like them, rather.



Well, you have them both

on your gramophone

and in your book of photographs.



When you feel lonely,

you can turn the machine on.

It's got no feelings to hurt.



I can't turn

your soul on.



Oh, you're a devil.



You can twist the heart in a girl

as easily as some can twist

her arms to hurt her.



I want a little kindness.



Why, I know I'm only

a common, ignorant girl,



but I'm not dirt

under your feet.



What I done, l...



What I did,



it wasn't for the dresses

and the taxis.



It was because we were pleasant

together and because I come...



Came to care for you.



Not forgetting

the difference between us...



and not wanting you

to make love to me, but...



Well, more...

more friendly like.



Of course, Eliza.

That's exactly how I feel.



And how Pickering feels.



- Eliza, you're a fool.

- That's not a proper answer to give me.



If you can't stand the coldness

of my sort of life...



and the strain of it,

go back to the gutter.



It's a fine life,

the life of the gutter.



It's real, it's warm,

it's violent.



Not like science, literature

and classical music...



and philosophy and art.



You find me cold, unfeeling,

selfish, don't you?



Very well. Then marry some

sentimental hog or other...



with a thick pair of lips

to kiss you with...



and a thick pair of boots

to kick you with.



If you can't appreciate what you've got,

you better get what you can appreciate.



- I won't care for anyone

who doesn't care for me.

- Oh, Eliza, you're an idiot!



I waste the treasures of my Miltonic

mind by spreading them before you.



Oh, I can't talk to you.

You turn everything against me.



You know very well that I can't

go back to the gutter, as you call it,



and that I have no real friends

in the world but you and the Colonel.



You think I must go back

to Wimpole Street because

I have nowhere to go but Father's.



But don't be too sure

that you have me under your feet

to be bullied and talked down.



I'll marry Freddy, I will,

as soon as I'm able to support him!



What, that young fool?

You shall marry an ambassador.



You shall marry

the viceroy of India.



I won't have my masterpiece

thrown away on Freddy.



You think I like you to say that,

but I haven't forgotten

what you said a minute ago.



If I can't have kindness,

I'll have independence.




that's middle-class blasphemy.



We're all of us dependent on

one another, every soul on Earth.



I'll let you see

whether I'm dependent on you.



If you can preach, I can teach.

I'll go and be a teacher.



Ha! What'll you teach,

in Heaven's name?



What you taught me.

I'll teach phonetics.



I'll offer myself as an assistant

to Professor Karpathy.



What, that humbug? That impostor?

That toadying ignoramus?



You take one step in his direction,

and I'll wring your neck, you hear?



Wring away! What do I care?

I knew you'd strike me one day.



- Oh!

- Now I know how to deal with you.



Oh, what a fool I was

not to think of it before.



That's done you,

'Enry 'Iggins, it has.



And I don't give that

for your bullying and your fine talk.



When I think of myself...



crawling under your feet...



and being trampled on

and talked down,



when all the time I had only to

lift my finger to be as good as you are,



oh, I could just

kick myself.



By George, Eliza, I said I'd make

a woman of you, and I have.



I like you like this.



Yes, you make up to me now that I'm not

afraid of you and I can do without you.



Of course I do,

you little fool.



Five minutes ago,

you were a millstone around my neck.



Now you're a tower of strength,

a consort battleship.




Professor Higgins.



Ow, I ain't dirty.!



I washed my face and hands

before I come, I did.



I shall make a duchess of

this draggle-tailed guttersnipe.



- Ohhh.!

- In six months, in three...



I washed my face and hands

before I came.



I did.



Where the devil

are my slippers, Eliza?


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