Pygmalion

genuine scientific work in phonetics, and a little as a poet on

Miltonic lines.

THE GENTLEMAN. I am myself a student of Indian dialects; and--

THE NOTE TAKER [eagerly] Are you? Do you know Colonel Pickering, the

author of Spoken Sanscrit?

THE GENTLEMAN. I am Colonel Pickering. Who are you?

THE NOTE TAKER. Henry Higgins, author of Higgins's Universal Alphabet.

PICKERING [with enthusiasm] I came from India to meet you.

HIGGINS. I was going to India to meet you.

PICKERING. Where do you live?

HIGGINS. 27A Wimpole Street. Come and see me tomorrow.

PICKERING. I'm at the Carlton. Come with me now and let's have a jaw

over some supper.

HIGGINS. Right you are.

THE FLOWER GIRL [to Pickering, as he passes her] Buy a flower, kind

gentleman. I'm short for my lodging.

PICKERING. I really haven't any change. I'm sorry [he goes away].

HIGGINS [shocked at girl's mendacity] Liar. You said you could change

half-a-crown.

THE FLOWER GIRL [rising in desperation] You ought to be stuffed with

nails, you ought. [Flinging the basket at his feet] Take the whole

blooming basket for sixpence.

The church clock strikes the second quarter.

HIGGINS [hearing in it the voice of God, rebuking him for his Pharisaic

want of charity to the poor girl] A reminder. [He raises his hat

solemnly; then throws a handful of money into the basket and follows

Pickering].

THE FLOWER GIRL [picking up a half-crown] Ah--ow--ooh! [Picking up a

couple of florins] Aaah--ow--ooh! [Picking up several coins]

Aaaaaah--ow--ooh! [Picking up a half-sovereign]

Aasaaaaaaaaah--ow--ooh!!!

FREDDY [springing out of a taxicab] Got one at last. Hallo! [To the

girl] Where are the two ladies that were here?

THE FLOWER GIRL. They walked to the bus when the rain stopped.

FREDDY. And left me with a cab on my hands. Damnation!

THE FLOWER GIRL [with grandeur] Never you mind, young man. I'm going

home in a taxi. [She sails off to the cab. The driver puts his hand

behind him and holds the door firmly shut against her. Quite

understanding his mistrust, she shows him her handful of money].

Eightpence ain't no object to me, Charlie. [He grins and opens the

door]. Angel Court, Drury Lane, round the corner of Micklejohn's oil

shop. Let's see how fast you can make her hop it. [She gets in and

pulls the door to with a slam as the taxicab starts].

FREDDY. Well, I'm dashed!