31
Shaw
ing, and what the devil and where the devil and who the
devil—
HIGGINS
. Really! Mrs. Pearce: this language from your lips!
MRS. PEARCE
[
not to be put off]—but there is a certain
word I must ask you not to use. The girl has just used it
herself because the bath was too hot. It begins with the same
letter as bath. She knows no better: she learnt it at her mother’s
knee. But she must not hear it from your lips.
HIGGINS
[
loftily] I cannot charge myself with having ever
uttered it, Mrs. Pearce. [
She looks at him steadfastly. He adds,
hiding an uneasy conscience with a judicial air] Except per-
haps in a moment of extreme and justifiable excitement.
MRS. PEARCE
. Only this morning, sir, you applied it to
your boots, to the butter, and to the brown bread.
HIGGINS
. Oh, that! Mere alliteration, Mrs. Pearce, natural
to a poet.
MRS. PEARCE
. Well, sir,
whatever you choose to call it, I
beg you not to let the girl hear you repeat it.
HIGGINS
. Oh, very well, very well. Is that all?
MRS. PEARCE
. No, sir. We shall have to be very particular
with this girl as to personal cleanliness.
HIGGINS
. Certainly. Quite right. Most important.
MRS. PEARCE
. I mean not to be slovenly about her dress
or untidy in leaving things about.
HIGGINS
[
going to her solemnly] Just so. I intended to call
your attention to that [
He passes on to Pickering, who is enjoy-
ing the conversation immensely]. It is these little things that
matter, Pickering. Take care of the pence and the pounds
will take care of themselves is as true of personal habits as of
money. [
He comes to anchor on the hearthrug, with the air of a
man in an unassailable position].
MRS. PEARCE
. Yes, sir. Then might I ask you not to come
down to breakfast in your dressing-gown,
or at any rate not
to use it as a napkin to the extent you do, sir. And if you
would be so good as not to eat everything off the same plate,
and to remember not to put the porridge saucepan out of
your hand on the clean tablecloth, it would be a better ex-
ample to the girl. You know you nearly choked yourself with
a fishbone in the jam only last week.
HIGGINS
[
routed from the hearthrug and drifting back to the
piano] I may do these things sometimes in absence of mind;
32
Pygmalion
but surely I don’t do them habitually. [Angrily] By the way:
my dressing-gown smells most damnably of benzine.
MRS. PEARCE
. No doubt it does, Mr. Higgins. But if you
will wipe your fingers—
HIGGINS
[
yelling] Oh very well, very well: I’ll wipe them
in my hair in future.
MRS. PEARCE
. I hope you’re
not offended, Mr. Higgins.
HIGGINS
[
shocked at finding himself thought capable of an
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