Pygmalion is a 5-act play by George Bernard Shaw. It was written in 1912 and first produced in 1913. The plot revolves around Professor Henry Higgins’ bet with a colleague over whether he can transform a low-class flower girl, Liza Doolittle, into the equivalent of a Duchess in just 6 months. Pygmalion was a Greek mythological figure who fell in love with a sculpture he had carved and was a popular theme in Victorian drama.
Most people would be familiar with the characters Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins from the hit 1956 musical My Fair Lady, which was adapted from Pygmalion, though the plots differ in small but significant ways. In particular Shaw wanted to avoid any sense of a “happy ending” and, after viewing a performance of the play where an extra scene had been added, he wrote a sequel which definitively states what came after. The sequel was included in the published edition.
epub:type="z3998:persona">Higgins
Amazed. Upstairs!!! Then I shall jolly soon fetch her downstairs. He makes resolutely for the door.
Mrs. Higgins
Rising and following him. Be quiet, Henry. Sit down.
Higgins
I—
Mrs. Higgins
Sit down, dear; and listen to me.
Higgins
Oh very well, very well, very well. He throws himself ungraciously on the ottoman, with his face towards the windows. But I think you might have told me this half an hour ago.
Mrs. Higgins
Eliza came to me this morning. She passed the night partly walking about in a rage, partly trying to throw herself into the river and being afraid to, and partly in the Carlton Hotel. She told me of the brutal way you two treated her.
Higgins
Bounding up again. What!
Pickering
Rising also. My dear Mrs. Higgins, she’s been telling you stories. We didn’t treat her brutally. We hardly said a word to her; and we parted on particularly good terms. Turning on Higgins. Higgins: did you bully her after I went to bed?
Higgins
Just the other way about. She threw my slippers in my face. She behaved in the most outrageous way. I never gave her the slightest provocation. The slippers came bang into my face the moment I entered the room—before I had uttered a word. And used perfectly awful language.
Pickering
Astonished. But why? What did we do to her?
Mrs. Higgins
I think I know pretty well what you did. The girl is naturally rather affectionate, I think. Isn’t she, Mr. Doolittle?
Doolittle
Very tenderhearted, ma’am. Takes after me.
Mrs. Higgins
Just so. She had become attached to you both. She worked very hard for you, Henry! I don’t think you quite realize what anything in the nature of brain work means to a girl like that. Well, it seems that when the great day of trial came, and she did this wonderful thing for you without making a single mistake, you two sat there and never said a word to her, but talked together of how glad you were that it was all over and how you had been bored with the whole thing. And then you were surprised because she threw your slippers at you! I should have thrown the fire-irons at you.
Higgins
We said nothing except that we were tired and wanted to go to bed. Did we, Pick?
Pickering
Shrugging his shoulders. That was all.
Mrs. Higgins
Ironically. Quite sure?
Pickering
Absolutely. Really, that was all.
Mrs. Higgins
You didn’t thank her, or pet her, or admire her, or tell her how splendid she’d been.
Higgins
Impatiently. But she knew all about that. We didn’t make speeches to her, if that’s what you mean.
Pickering
Conscience stricken. Perhaps we were a little inconsiderate. Is she very angry?
Mrs. Higgins
Returning to her place at the writing-table. Well, I’m afraid she won’t go back to Wimpole Street, especially now that Mr. Doolittle is able to keep up the position you have thrust on her; but she says she is quite willing to meet you on friendly terms and to let bygones be bygones.
Higgins
Furious. Is she, by George? Ho!
Mrs. Higgins
If you promise to behave yourself, Henry, I’ll ask her to come down. If not, go home; for you have taken up quite enough of my time.
Higgins
Oh, all right. Very well. Pick: you behave yourself. Let us put on our best Sunday manners for this creature that we picked out of the mud. He flings himself sulkily into the Elizabethan chair.
Doolittle
Remonstrating. Now, now, Henry Higgins! have some consideration for my feelings as a middle class man.
Mrs. Higgins
Remember your promise, Henry. She presses the bell-button on the writing-table. Mr. Doolittle: will you be so good as to step out on the balcony for a moment. I don’t want Eliza to have the shock of your news until she has made it up with these two gentlemen. Would you mind?
Doolittle
As you wish, lady. Anything to help Henry to keep her off my hands. He disappears through the window.The Parlormaid answers the bell. Pickering sits down in Doolittle’s place.
Mrs. Higgins
Ask Miss Doolittle to come down, please.
The Parlormaid
Yes, ma’am. She goes out.
Mrs. Higgins
Now, Henry: be good.
Higgins
I am behaving myself perfectly.
Pickering
He is doing his best, Mrs. Higgins.
A pause. Higgins throws back his head; stretches out his legs; and begins to whistle.
Mrs. Higgins
Henry, dearest, you don’t look at all nice in that attitude.
Higgins
Pulling himself together. I was not trying to look nice, mother.
Mrs. Higgins
It doesn’t matter, dear. I only wanted to make you speak.
Higgins
Why?
Mrs. Higgins
Because you can’t speak and whistle at the same time.
Higgins groans. Another very trying pause.
Higgins
Springing up, out of patience. Where the devil is that girl? Are we to wait here all day?
Eliza enters, sunny, self-possessed, and giving a staggeringly convincing exhibition of ease of manner. She carries a little workbasket, and is very much at home. Pickering is too much taken aback to rise.
Liza
How do you do, Professor Higgins? Are you quite well?
Higgins
Choking. Am I—He can say no more.
Liza
But of course you are: you are never ill. So glad to see you again, Colonel Pickering. He rises hastily; and they shake hands. Quite chilly this morning, isn’t it? She sits down on his left. He sits beside her.
Higgins
Don’t you dare try this game on me. I taught it to you; and it doesn’t take me in. Get up and come home; and don’t be a fool.
Eliza takes a piece of needlework from her basket, and begins to stitch at it, without taking the least notice of this outburst.
Mrs. Higgins
Very nicely put, indeed, Henry. No woman could resist such an invitation.
Higgins
You let her alone, mother. Let her speak for herself. You will jolly soon see whether she has an idea that I haven’t put into her head or a word that I haven’t put into her mouth. I tell you I have created this thing out of the squashed cabbage leaves
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