English Week

ALICE@WONDERLAND

New Version

Scene One—Alice on the Bank

 LIGHTS UP on ALICE speaking on her cell phone.

 ALICE: (Giddy.) It… has… everything! Blazing speed, unlimited text and talk! (Beat.) Well, sure it has apps. What’s the use of a smart phone without apps?
WHITE RABBIT: (ENTERS and passes by in a frenzy.) Oh, dear! Oh,
dear! I shall be late!
ALICE: Ugh, hold on a sec. (To WHITE RABBIT, snarky.) Hey, can you
pipe down? I’m on the phone—thanks.

WHITE RABBIT: I’m late! I’m late!
 ALICE: Seriously? Take it down a notch. (WHITE RABBIT rushes OFF. ALICE returns to her phone.) Hey, you still there? Great. Now, my phone’s dead. Thanks a lot, rabbit! (Sighs and puts her phone away.)
WHITE RABBIT: (ENTERS again, darting about. He pauses, checks his pocket watch, demurs.) Oh, dear! Oh, dear! (Travels about the stage in a tizzy.)
ALICE: (Follows him.) Hey, bunny! Do you know where I can recharge
my phone?
WHITE RABBIT: Oh, my ears and whiskers! How late it’s getting!
ALICE: Is there a café close by? Somewhere I could plug it in? What’s your rush, rabbit? (The weather becomes ominous. CHORUS ENSEMBLE ENTERS and begins to make sounds of rain and thunder.) Lost in the woods—no phone, no GPS. This must be how the pioneers felt! And now—just fabulous!—it looks like rain. Oh, what an ugly storm! (CHORUS ENSEMBLE grumbles at the insult as ALICE slogs through the storm, chasing after WHITE RABBIT.) Hey, bunny! I’m talking to you! Why don’t you slow down?! (At last, CHORUS shifts into a semi-circle formation, creating a rabbit hole, which WHITE RABBIT crosses into and briskly scampers OFF, out of sight. ALICE stands before the rabbit hole, contemplating.) What’s this?
CHORUS ENSEMBLE: What’s it look like?

ALICE: A rabbit hole…
CHORUS ENSEMBLE: (Muttering various ad libs.) Whiz kid. Genius. A
real Isaac Newton. Is it safe? (Then, together.) Safe enough.

ALICE: I should Google it.
CHORUS ENSEMBLE: No time! (CHORUS ENSEMBLE grabs ALICE and pulls her into the hole. They lift her up, spin her about, then place her on her feet. [If this is not possible, CHORUS ENSEMBLE can twirl ALICE to and fro.] CHORUS ENSEMBLE then splinters off and spaces out, as ALICE is propelled around the stage. She is in free fall, bouncing and ricocheting off one actor and toward another, like a pinball.)
 ALICE: I seem to be falling… (CHORUS ENSEMBLE begins to softly chant “Down, down, down.”) In fact, I’m sure I’m falling… There seems to be no end! (Shouts.) Echo!
CHORUS ENSEMBLE: Echo… echo… echo… echo… echo…

ALICE: Alice!
CHORUS ENSEMBLE: Alice… Alice… Alice… Alice… Alice…

ALICE: I must be getting somewhere near the center! That’s like 4,000 miles down! (CHORUS ENSEMBLE has resumed the “Down, down, down” chant.) I wonder if I’ll fall right through the earth! Then, I’d be really far from home, and I bet the reception is awful down here. (Checks her phone.) What luck! No power and no service! Ugh! Verizon is the worst!
CHORUS ENSEMBLE: (Abruptly, turns out to AUDIENCE and proclaims
in full-voice.) When suddenly, thump! Thump!
ALICE: (Drops to her knees, awake and alert. Stillness at last.) Where
am I? Where have I landed? Is this New Zealand? Or Australia?

CHORUS ENSEMBLE: (Announces to AUDIENCE.) The hall of strange doors.

End of Scene One

Scene Two—The Hall of Strange Doors

DOORS #1, #2 and #3 leave the CHORUS and transform into doors, becoming rigid and standing in a row. Each pulls out a doorknob and 25 holds it in their right hand. ALICE: Achoo

 DOORS: Bless you.

ALICE: Achoo! Achoo!

DOORS: Bless you. Bless you. 30

ALICE: Thanks. Hey, doors aren’t supposed to talk.

DOOR #1: And young girls…
DOOR #2: …aren’t supposed to sneeze…

DOOR #3: …without covering their yappers.

ALICE: I must’ve caught cold in that ugly storm. Say, I wonder where you doors might lead. (Tries to open each door, but the knobs won’t budge. After each attempt, the DOORS, in their distinct voices, announce the word “Locked.”) Then, how am I supposed to get out of here? (DOORS shrug and mumble uncertainties, as a key on a string is lowered from above. [See PRODUCTION NOTES.]) Where did this come from? Maybe this key will open one of you… (Starts to reach for the key, but stops when DOORS start talking.)

DOOR #1: Not me.

DOOR #2: Not I. DOOR #3: Not us.

ALICE: Well, then, I’ll just have to break one of you down. (DOORS are appalled and frightened at the prospect.)

DOOR #1: Awful girl!
DOOR #2: That would hurt!

DOOR #3: How unladylike!

ALICE: Which one of you shall it be? (DOORS begin pleading their
cases all at once.)

DOOR #1: He’s best.

DOOR #2: No, she’s best.

DOOR #3: I’m really much too sturdy.

TINY DOOR: (Leaves the CHORUS and lines up with the other doors, also with a doorknob. TINY DOOR should play this from the knees, making TINY DOOR as small as possible. In a pitiable squeal.) What about me?
ALICE: (Sees that a fourth door has appeared.) What about you?

TINY DOOR: It’s my secrets that the key unlocks.
DOORS: (Sigh with relief. Ad lib.) Thank heavens! That was close! This
girl’s cray-cray! (Etc.)
ALICE: But you’re such a tiny door… What secrets could you have?

TINY DOOR: Secrets of the other side.

ALICE: What will I find there?
TINY DOOR: A most magnificent garden, full of white roses and tiger lilies. It’s called Wonderland. (SOUND EFFECT: DANCE PARTY MUSIC. EVERYONE dances wildly. [NOTE: Throughout the play, whenever the word “Wonderland” is uttered, this party music blares and EVERYONE onstage dances wild and furious. This lasts a few seconds, then the music cuts abruptly and the actors go right on with the scene.])
ALICE: What just happened?

TINY DOOR: What do you mean?

ALICE: Everyone started carrying on for no reason.

TINY DOOR: I didn’t notice.
ALICE: You didn’t notice the music and dancing?

TINY DOOR: Oh, that. By decree of the queen—

 ALICE: By decree of the queen?!
QUEEN OF HEARTS: (APPEARS in her own SPOTLIGHT.) By decree of the Queen—that is, by decree of me—whenever a particular word is mentioned, there shall be music and dancing! Anyone who fails to obey this decree, who fails, at the utterance of the word, to heed the music and dance like a raving loon—it’s off with your head! (SPOTLIGHT OUT.)

ALICE: That’s some stiff talk.

TINY DOOR: You’ll be stiff if you don’t obey it.

ALICE: What’s the word?

TINY DOOR: I’d rather not say.

ALICE: But you must have just said it.

TINY DOOR: Shrewdly observed.

ALICE: Is it roses or lilies?

TINY DOOR: Apparently not.

ALICE: What about white or tiger?

TINY DOOR: If it were, I’d be dancing, wouldn’t I?

ALICE: Then, the word must be… Wonderland? (MUSIC! DANCING!)

TINY DOOR: So now you know.
ALICE: One word has all that power.
TINY DOOR: Please don’t say it again. My knees are killing me.

ALICE: Describe what Wonder—er… that place is like.
TINY DOOR: It’s a land of nonsense and make-believe, of danger, beauty and imagination.
ALICE: And a place to charge my phone?
TINY DOOR: I think it has a Starbucks now, yes.

ALICE: Perfect. But how will I fit? I’m too big to go through your frame. (Another string is lowered from above. This one has a small bottle tied to the end and includes a note with the words DRINK ME in large letters. ALICE takes the bottle and note.) What’s this? “Drink me.”
DOOR #1: May be poison.

DOOR #2: Could be poison.

DOOR #3: Probably poison.

ALICE: It isn’t marked poison.

TINY DOOR: If it was marked poison, no one would drink it.

ALICE: Well, that would be the point, you see?
TINY DOOR: There’s only one way to be sure. Down the hatch!

ALICE: Here goes… (Drinks from the bottle.) There now. Tastes like Skittles!
DOOR #1: Oh, I can’t bear to watch.

ALICE: Relax. Nothing’s happening.

DOOR #2: (Astounded.) What do you mean nothing’s happening?
You’re… you’re…

ALICE: I’m what?

DOOR #3: Vanishing!

ALICE: My hands—they’re shrinking! And my feet—the size of dimes! And my voice, too—it’s… (High-pitched.) I sound like a Christmas elf! What a curious feeling!

DOOR #1: This isn’t pretty.

DOOR #2: Shut up like a telescope.

DOOR #3: Hardly a foot tall.

ALICE: What’ll I do now?!

TINY DOOR: Look on the bright side.

ALICE: What bright side? I’m ten inches high!

TINY DOOR: Now, you’re the right size to go through me and enter the lovely garden.
ALICE: Yes! That’s right! I am!
TINY DOOR: But you’ll need the key.
ALICE: The key… (Turns for the key, but it has been raised, dangling just out of her reach.) No, no, don’t tell me! (Jumps for it, but is unable to grasp it.) Now, I’m too small to reach the key!

 DOOR #1: That’s a pity.

 DOOR #2: A crying shame.

 DOOR #3: One should plan ahead before shrinking.

ALICE: I could just cry!
TINY DOOR: Now, now, no use for that. Something will turn up.
ALICE: Like what? (A string is lowered with a small box tied to the end.
The box is marked with the words EAT ME.) What’s this?

DOOR #1: A balanced meal.

DOOR #2: I bet it’s a pizza roll.

DOOR #3: Or a hushpuppy.
ALICE: (Opens the box and removes a crumb of cake.) It’s cake. Should I eat it?
TINY DOOR: That’s what it says.

ALICE: The food here is very bossy.

TINY DOOR: Don’t complain. There are starving children in the world.

ALICE: I’ll eat it. If it makes me larger, I can reach the key. If it makes me smaller, I’ll creep under the door. Either way I’ll get into the garden. (DOORS mutter their approval at her reasoning.) Let’s hope it’s gluten-free. (Eats the cake. Waits.) Which way? Which way? It seems I’m remaining the same size.
TINY DOOR: This is what generally happens when one eats cake.

DOOR #1: Wait a moment!

DOOR #2: Her face is fattening!

DOOR #3: Her thighs are bulging!

ALICE: Curiouser and curiouser!

TINY DOOR: By George, she’s swelling!

ALICE: Oh dear! I’m growing so tall! My toes—they’re moving so far from my fingers! I’ ll never touch them again! And my voice—it’s… (Deep-voiced.) I sound like my father! Oh what an awful way for a girl to go through life! Ten feet tall and the voice of a longshoreman! I’ll never get through the door now, and I can just forget about prom! WHITE RABBIT: (ENTERS, ever in a scurry.) Oh, the Duchess! Won’t she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!
ALICE: You again! (WHITE RABBIT sees “giant” ALICE and screams girlishly and rushes OFF.) Rabbit, wait! (He’s gone.) What a weird little bunny! Things are too strange here. From one moment to the next, you can never be sure—

DOOR #1: Who you are.

DOOR #2: Where you’re going.

DOOR #3: How you’ll get there.

TINY DOOR: Or who you’ll meet along the way.

ALICE: (Notices that TINY DOOR has now stood up and is a normal size, as is she now. Back to normal voice.) How did you do that?

TINY DOOR: Do what exactly?
ALICE: We’re suddenly the same size. You’ve grown.

TINY DOOR: Or maybe you’ve shrunk.

ALICE: But you used to be tiny.
TINY DOOR: And you were once a giant.

ALICE: But now we’re both normal.
TINY DOOR: There’s no such thing as normal, my dear. Not in your world, nor in mine. It’s all about where you’re standing, and how closely you’re paying attention. The key, if you please? (ALICE takes the key, which she can now reach. She hands it to TINY DOOR, who “opens” to let ALICE through.) You may pass. (The DOORS become sentimental with their goodbyes.)

DOOR #1: Bye, young lady.
DOOR #2: Thanks for not breaking us down.

DOOR #3: Don’t forget to write.

DOOR #1: We love you.
DOOR #2: We don’t love her.
DOOR #3: We’ve known her five minutes.

DOOR #1: Sorry.
DOOR #2: You always gush.

DOOR #3: So embarrassing.

TINY DOOR: Forgive them. They haven’t been opened in centuries.

ALICE: I guess I’m off, then. To this place—what is it you call it? Wonderland? (MUSIC! DANCING! CHORUS and DOORS take this opportunity to dance OFF, leaving ALICE alone in Wonderland. At MUSIC OUT, CATERPILLAR APPEARS smoking a hookah.[See PRODUCTION NOTES.])

End of Scene Two
Scene Three—Encounter with a Caterpillar

ALICE halts abruptly when she notices CATERPILLAR. CATERPILLAR: Who are you?

ALICE: I was told there’d be a garden.

CATERPILLAR: A garden?

ALICE: And a Starbucks.

CATERPILLAR: Explain yourself!

ALICE: A caterpillar smoking a hookah. What a status update you would make!
CATERPILLAR: I said explain yourself!
ALICE: I’ve been so many sizes today, I wouldn’t know where to begin. You really shouldn’t smoke, you know.

CATERPILLAR: It soothes me.
ALICE: Studies show that smoking actually causes more stress than it relieves.
CATERPILLAR: Are you a doctor?

ALICE: I read about it online.

CATERPILLAR: Then spare me.

ALICE: But you’re not even out of the larvae stage. You’re still a teenager, like me.
CATERPILLAR: Waiting to become a butterfly.

ALICE: Smoking can stunt your growth.

CATERPILLAR: Then, I suppose I’ll remain a caterpillar forever.

ALICE: That’s too bad. Everyone should grow up at some point.

CATERPILLAR: And how do you plan to grow up? Into a butterfly?

ALICE: Well, being a girl, I’ll soon grow into a woman.

CATERPILLAR: Does a woman have wings?
ALICE: No, a woman looks very much like I do, except more developed in places.
CATERPILLAR: Please, there are things a caterpillar doesn’t need to know.
ALICE: Sorry. TMI.

CATERPILLAR: TMI?

ALICE: Too much information.

CATERPILLAR: Why not simply say, “too much information”?

ALICE: It’s an abbreviation.
CATERPILLAR: You’ve wasted my time. A caterpillar’s life isn’t long.

ALICE: Abbreviations are meant to save time.
CATERPILLAR: But if you have to explain them, they’re more trouble than they’re worth.
ALICE: I think we should agree to disagree.

CATERPILLAR: I think we should agree that I’m right and you’re wrong.

ALICE: It’s probably best that I get going.

CATERPILLAR: I don’t like you.

ALICE: I don’t particularly like you.

CATERPILLAR: You’re being snippy now.

ALICE: Can you point me toward the garden?

CATERPILLAR: If I knew where the garden was, I would have eaten it by now. (FROG-NEWSIE and FISH-NEWSIE ENTER peddling dueling newspapers, as the CATERPILLAR moves OFF.)

The End

 

Pink Salmon

CHARATERS:        Pink Salmon

                                   Pretty Housemaid

                                   Waiter

                                   Tourist

                                   Receptionist

S C E N E   I

SETTING: This is a hotel. There is a large hall with armchairs and a mirror. You can see a palm tree in the middle. The receptionist`s desk is behind. People are coming in and out.

Pink Salmon: How can you travel without any pence in your pocket? What`s the use of pockets? (Sees a Pretty Housemaid.) What`s the weather like here?

Pretty Housemaid:  It is fine. Is there any use of making holiday at the seaside if the weather is wretched?

Pink Salmon: Certainly not. Run to the bar and fetch me some champagne.

Pretty Housemaid: I`ll call the waiter, sir.

Pink Salmon: I have a talent for ordering people about.

Waiter: Your champagne, Sir.

Pink Salmon: I hope it`s cold enough.

Tourist: The same for me, please. I`m dying for a drink of water, it`s so hot today.

Pink Salmon: There is the bar over there, and you can order some lemonade or juice. Only I don`t think they will let you stay in the bar, they are having a break for siesta. You can phone the restaurant and order a bottle of champagne in your room. What number?

Tourist: Twenty-two. But I don`t like to drink champagne indoors. It`s look for a bar down-town.

Pink Salmon: Have fun, then! (to himself): I have to ask his name. He`ll think I`m ignorant because I didn`t introduce myself. Perhaps I shall see him sooner or later. Better later then sooner. Better never then later. (To the receptionist): Can I have my key, please?

Receptionist: Twenty-two.

Waiter: Will you pay for the champagne, sir? Check credit card…

Pink Salmon: Later if you don`t mind! Can you fetch two bottles of champagne upstairs?

Waiter: What number, sir?

Receptionist: Twenty-two

Pink Salmon: Thank you.

S C E N E  II

SETTING: A comfortable room in a hotel. A large sofa with a little tamle in front of it. Pink Salmon is sitting in the armchair.

Pink Salmon: I must be getting somewhere in luxury. Let me see. This window faces the sae. How nice! Blue is always pleasant to the eyes, isn`t it?

Somebody`s knocking at the door.

Pink Salmon: Come in! (The waiter appears.) Things are not bright, are they?

Waiter: It`s too hot. Here is your order, sir.

Pink Salmon: Here you are. Can you do me a favour? I`m going to have a party tonight but I know nobody here.

Waiter: It`s rather strange you don`t know your neigbours. The door to the left – that`s the famous detective Jounce, and a police captain with his wife is to the tight.

Pink Salmon: I like neither detectives nor captains. I`d like to stay at home. How about having a drink?

Waiter: That`s a big idea. I`ll fetch another bottle if you don`t mind.

Pink Salmon: This is a mirror, isn`t it?

Waiter: Yes. I always take it for a door. That`s because of the curtains hanging over there.

Pink Salmon: I wish I had more respectable company, but half a loaf is better than no bread. Take your seat, Jack, and help yourself.

Waiter: Yes, if you like. My name Paul, sir.

Pink Salmon: It doesn`t matter. Can you cope with the bottle?

Waiter: I do my best, sir. (somebody`s knocking at the door.)

Pink Salmon: Come in!

Pretty Housemaid: Some ice for your champagne, sir.

Pink Salmon: Do you like these apartments?

Pretty Housemaid: Certainly. It looks very sunny. But I think you`ve put the ice in a hot place.

Pink Salmon: Never mind. Is there anybody else in the corridor?

Pretty Housemaid: I saw nobody.

Pink Salmon: There is only one bottle of champagne. It`s too little for three mates.

(Somebody`s knocking at the door. Tourist is too puzzled to say anything. There is a long pause.)

Pink Salmon: By Jove! If it isn`t you! Come in, please. Have you found that bar downtown?

Tourist: Everything is closed. Siesta, you know.

Pink Salmon: Didn`t I tell you? You should have followed my advice. Better an egg today than a hen tomorrow.

Tourist: May I join the party?

Pink Salmon: Ask that young lady.

Pretty Housemaid: I seem to know your face. Mr. Hopkins from room twenty-two?

Tourist (to her): That`s right. I`ve seen you somewhere.

Waiter: How do you do?

Tourist (to him): How do you do? What`s the news?

Waiter: Nothing special, just a party. Are two bottles of champagne enough?

Pink Salmon: You should phone the restaurant.

Tourist: What`s number? (on the phone:) Two bottles of champagne, please. Hopkins from number 22 is speaking. Be quick! Sorry. They say that the waiter is out.

Pink Salmon: Let them send a housemaid.

Tourist: That`s impossible. She is out too.

Pink Salmon: That means the party is over. Let`s say goodbye. All`s well, that`s ends well.

Waiter: How will you pay, sir? Check or credit card?

Pink Salmon: Bring the bill later. What number?

Tourist: Twenty-two. What bill are you talking about?

Pink Salmon: There must be a door. (to Pretty House maid): Did you see anybody in the corridor?

Pretty Housemaid: Nobody. Only a receptionist.

Pink Salmon (draws the curtain open) : This is a window, not the door.

Tourist: I wonder who will pay the bill.

Pink Salmon: I think the view is not so beautiful. That tree is awful. The bench is over here. What`s this?

Tourist: A magnolia, I guess.

Pink Salmon: I am not sure, but it doesn`t matter. My best wishes to the company! (Jumps out of the window).

 The End

My Fair Lady

Bernard Show

Presented by 11-A pupils(philological group)

2013

Act III (video files on the text,the narrator comments on every scene)

It is Mrs. Higgins's at-home day. Nobody has yet arrived. Her

drawing-room, in a flat on Chelsea embankment, has three windows

looking on the river; and the ceiling is not so lofty as it would

be in an older house of the same pretension. The windows are

open, giving access to a balcony with flowers in pots. If you

stand with your face to the windows, you have the fireplace on

your left and the door in the right-hand wall close to the corner

nearest the windows.

Mrs. Higgins was brought up on Morris and Burne Jones; and her

room, which is very unlike her son's room in Wimpole Street, is

not crowded with furniture and little tables and nicknacks. In

the middle of the room there is a big ottoman; and this, with the

carpet, the Morris wall-papers, and the Morris chintz window

curtains and brocade covers of the ottoman and its cushions,

supply all the ornament, and are much too handsome to be hidden

by odds and ends of useless things. A few good oil-paintings from

the exhibitions in the Grosvenor Gallery thirty years ago (the

Burne Jones, not the Whistler side of them) are on the walls. The

only landscape is a Cecil Lawson on the scale of a Rubens. There

is a portrait of Mrs. Higgins as she was when she defied fashion

in her youth in one of the beautiful Rossettian costumes which,

when caricatured by people who did not understand, led to the

absurdities of popular estheticism in the eighteen-seventies.

In the corner diagonally opposite the door Mrs. Higgins, now over

sixty and long past taking the trouble to dress out of the

fashion, sits writing at an elegantly simple writing-table with a

bell button within reach of her hand. There is a Chippendale

chair further back in the room between her and the window nearest

her side. At the other side of the room, further forward, is an

Elizabethan chair roughly carved in the taste of Inigo Jones. On

the same side a piano in a decorated case. The corner between the

fireplace and the window is occupied by a divan cushioned in

Morris chintz.

It is between four and five in the afternoon.

The door is opened violently; and Higgins enters with his hat on.

MRS. HIGGINS [dismayed] Henry [scolding him]! What are you doing

here to-day? It is my at home day: you promised not to come. [As

he bends to kiss her, she takes his hat off, and presents it to

him].

HIGGINS. Oh bother! [He throws the hat down on the table].

MRS. HIGGINS. Go home at once.

HIGGINS [kissing her] I know, mother. I came on purpose.

MRS. HIGGINS. But you mustn't. I'm serious, Henry. You offend all

my friends: they stop coming whenever they meet you.

HIGGINS. Nonsense! I know I have no small talk; but people don't

mind. [He sits on the settee].

MRS. HIGGINS. Oh! don't they? Small talk indeed! What about your

large talk? Really, dear, you mustn't stay.

HIGGINS. I must. I've a job for you. A phonetic job.

MRS. HIGGINS. No use, dear. I'm sorry; but I can't get round your

vowels; and though I like to get pretty postcards in your patent

shorthand, I always have to read the copies in ordinary writing

you so thoughtfully send me.

HIGGINS. Well, this isn't a phonetic job.

MRS. HIGGINS. You said it was.

HIGGINS. Not your part of it. I've picked up a girl.

MRS. HIGGINS. Does that mean that some girl has picked you up?

HIGGINS. Not at all. I don't mean a love affair.

MRS. HIGGINS. What a pity!

HIGGINS. Why?

MRS. HIGGINS. Well, you never fall in love with anyone under

forty-five. When will you discover that there are some rather

nice-looking young women about?

HIGGINS. Oh, I can't be bothered with young women. My idea of a

loveable woman is something as like you as possible. I shall

never get into the way of seriously liking young women: some

habits lie too deep to be changed. [Rising abruptly and walking

about, jingling his money and his keys in his trouser pockets]

Besides, they're all idiots.

MRS. HIGGINS. Do you know what you would do if you really loved

me, Henry?

HIGGINS. Oh bother! What? Marry, I suppose?

MRS. HIGGINS. No. Stop fidgeting and take your hands out of your

pockets. [With a gesture of despair, he obeys and sits down

again]. That's a good boy. Now tell me about the girl.

HIGGINS. She's coming to see you.

MRS. HIGGINS. I don't remember asking her.

HIGGINS. You didn't. I asked her. If you'd known her you wouldn't

have asked her.

MRS. HIGGINS. Indeed! Why?

HIGGINS. Well, it's like this. She's a common flower girl. I

picked her off the kerbstone.

MRS. HIGGINS. And invited her to my at-home!

HIGGINS [rising and coming to her to coax her] Oh, that'll be all

right. I've taught her to speak properly; and she has strict

orders as to her behavior. She's to keep to two subjects: the

weather and everybody's health—Fine day and How do you do, you

know—and not to let herself go on things in general. That will

be safe.

MRS. HIGGINS. Safe! To talk about our health! about our insides!

perhaps about our outsides! How could you be so silly, Henry?

HIGGINS [impatiently] Well, she must talk about something. [He

controls himself and sits down again]. Oh, she'll be all right:

don't you fuss. Pickering is in it with me. I've a sort of bet on

that I'll pass her off as a duchess in six months. I started on

her some months ago; and she's getting on like a house on fire. I

shall win my bet. She has a quick ear; and she's been easier to

teach than my middle-class pupils because she's had to learn a

complete new language. She talks English almost as you talk

French.

MRS. HIGGINS. That's satisfactory, at all events.

HIGGINS. Well, it is and it isn't.

MRS. HIGGINS. What does that mean?

HIGGINS. You see, I've got her pronunciation all right; but you

have to consider not only how a girl pronounces, but what she

pronounces; and that's where—

They are interrupted by the parlor-maid, announcing guests.

THE PARLOR-MAID. Mrs. and Miss Eynsford Hill. [She withdraws].

HIGGINS. Oh Lord! [He rises; snatches his hat from the table; and

makes for the door; but before he reaches it his mother

introduces him].

Mrs. and Miss Eynsford Hill are the mother and daughter who

sheltered from the rain in Covent Garden. The mother is well

bred, quiet, and has the habitual anxiety of straitened means.

The daughter has acquired a gay air of being very much at home in

society: the bravado of genteel poverty.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to Mrs. Higgins] How do you do? [They shake

hands].

Miss EYNSFORD HILL. How d'you do? [She shakes].

MRS. HIGGINS [introducing] My son Henry.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. Your celebrated son! I have so longed to meet

you, Professor Higgins.

HIGGINS [glumly, making no movement in her direction] Delighted.

[He backs against the piano and bows brusquely].

Miss EYNSFORD HILL [going to him with confident familiarity] How

do you do?

HIGGINS [staring at her] I've seen you before somewhere. I

haven't the ghost of a notion where; but I've heard your voice.

[Drearily] It doesn't matter. You'd better sit down.

MRS. HIGGINS. I'm sorry to say that my celebrated son has no

manners. You mustn't mind him.

MISS EYNSFORD HILL [gaily] I don't. [She sits in the Elizabethan

chair].

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [a little bewildered] Not at all. [She sits on

the ottoman between her daughter and Mrs. Higgins, who has turned

her chair away from the writing-table].

HIGGINS. Oh, have I been rude? I didn't mean to be. He goes to

the central window, through which, with his back to the company,

he contemplates the river and the flowers in Battersea Park on

the opposite bank as if they were a frozen dessert.

The parlor-maid returns, ushering in Pickering.

THE PARLOR-MAID. Colonel Pickering [She withdraws].

PICKERING. How do you do, Mrs. Higgins?

MRS. HIGGINS. So glad you've come. Do you know Mrs. Eynsford

Hill—Miss Eynsford Hill? [Exchange of bows. The Colonel brings

the Chippendale chair a little forward between Mrs. Hill and Mrs.

Higgins, and sits down].

PICKERING. Has Henry told you what we've come for?

HIGGINS [over his shoulder] We were interrupted: damn it!

MRS. HIGGINS. Oh Henry, Henry, really!

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [half rising] Are we in the way?

MRS. HIGGINS [rising and making her sit down again] No, no. You

couldn't have come more fortunately: we want you to meet a friend

of ours.

HIGGINS [turning hopefully] Yes, by George! We want two or three

people. You'll do as well as anybody else.

The parlor-maid returns, ushering Freddy.

THE PARLOR-MAID. Mr. Eynsford Hill.

HIGGINS [almost audibly, past endurance] God of Heaven! another

of them.

FREDDY [shaking hands with Mrs. Higgins] Ahdedo?

MRS. HIGGINS. Very good of you to come. [Introducing] Colonel

Pickering.

FREDDY [bowing] Ahdedo?

MRS. HIGGINS. I don't think you know my son, Professor Higgins.

FREDDY [going to Higgins] Ahdedo?

HIGGINS [looking at him much as if he were a pickpocket] I'll

take my oath I've met you before somewhere. Where was it?

FREDDY. I don't think so.

HIGGINS [resignedly] It don't matter, anyhow. Sit down. He shakes

Freddy's hand, and almost slings him on the ottoman with his face

to the windows; then comes round to the other side of it.

HIGGINS. Well, here we are, anyhow! [He sits down on the ottoman

next Mrs. Eynsford Hill, on her left]. And now, what the devil

are we going to talk about until Eliza comes?

MRS. HIGGINS. Henry: you are the life and soul of the Royal

Society's soirees; but really you're rather trying on more

commonplace occasions.

HIGGINS. Am I? Very sorry. [Beaming suddenly] I suppose I am, you

know. [Uproariously] Ha, ha!

MISS EYNSFORD HILL [who considers Higgins quite eligible

matrimonially] I sympathize. I haven't any small talk. If people

would only be frank and say what they really think!

HIGGINS [relapsing into gloom] Lord forbid!

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [taking up her daughter's cue] But why?

HIGGINS. What they think they ought to think is bad enough, Lord

knows; but what they really think would break up the whole show.

Do you suppose it would be really agreeable if I were to come out

now with what I really think?

MISS EYNSFORD HILL [gaily] Is it so very cynical?

HIGGINS. Cynical! Who the dickens said it was cynical? I mean it

wouldn't be decent.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [seriously] Oh! I'm sure you don't mean that,

Mr. Higgins.

HIGGINS. You see, we're all savages, more or less. We're supposed

to be civilized and cultured—to know all about poetry and

philosophy and art and science, and so on; but how many of us

know even the meanings of these names? [To Miss Hill] What do you

know of poetry? [To Mrs. Hill] What do you know of science?

[Indicating Freddy] What does he know of art or science or

anything else? What the devil do you imagine I know of

philosophy?

MRS. HIGGINS [warningly] Or of manners, Henry?

THE PARLOR-MAID [opening the door] Miss Doolittle. [She

withdraws].

HIGGINS [rising hastily and running to Mrs. Higgins] Here she is,

mother. [He stands on tiptoe and makes signs over his mother's

head to Eliza to indicate to her which lady is her hostess].

Eliza, who is exquisitely dressed, produces an impression of such

remarkable distinction and beauty as she enters that they all

rise, quite flustered. Guided by Higgins's signals, she comes to

Mrs. Higgins with studied grace.

LIZA [speaking with pedantic correctness of pronunciation and

great beauty of tone] How do you do, Mrs. Higgins? [She gasps

slightly in making sure of the H in Higgins, but is quite

successful]. Mr. Higgins told me I might come.

MRS. HIGGINS [cordially] Quite right: I'm very glad indeed to see

you.

PICKERING. How do you do, Miss Doolittle?

LIZA [shaking hands with him] Colonel Pickering, is it not?

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. I feel sure we have met before, Miss

Doolittle. I remember your eyes.

LIZA. How do you do? [She sits down on the ottoman gracefully in

the place just left vacant by Higgins].

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [introducing] My daughter Clara.

LIZA. How do you do?

CLARA [impulsively] How do you do? [She sits down on the ottoman

beside Eliza, devouring her with her eyes].

FREDDY [coming to their side of the ottoman] I've certainly had

the pleasure.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [introducing] My son Freddy.

LIZA. How do you do?

Freddy bows and sits down in the Elizabethan chair, infatuated.

HIGGINS [suddenly] By George, yes: it all comes back to me! [They

stare at him]. Covent Garden! [Lamentably] What a damned thing!

MRS. HIGGINS. Henry, please! [He is about to sit on the edge of

the table]. Don't sit on my writing-table: you'll break it.

HIGGINS [sulkily] Sorry.

He goes to the divan, stumbling into the fender and over the

fire-irons on his way; extricating himself with muttered

imprecations; and finishing his disastrous journey by throwing

himself so impatiently on the divan that he almost breaks it.

Mrs. Higgins looks at him, but controls herself and says nothing.

A long and painful pause ensues.

MRS. HIGGINS [at last, conversationally] Will it rain, do you

think?

LIZA. The shallow depression in the west of these islands is

likely to move slowly in an easterly direction. There are no

indications of any great change in the barometrical situation.

FREDDY. Ha! ha! how awfully funny!

LIZA. What is wrong with that, young man? I bet I got it right.

FREDDY. Killing!

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. I'm sure I hope it won't turn cold. There's

so much influenza about. It runs right through our whole family

regularly every spring.

LIZA [darkly] My aunt died of influenza: so they said.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [clicks her tongue sympathetically]!!!

LIZA [in the same tragic tone] But it's my belief they done the

old woman in.

MRS. HIGGINS [puzzled] Done her in?

LIZA. Y-e-e-e-es, Lord love you! Why should she die of influenza?

She come through diphtheria right enough the year before. 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 til she came to so sudden that she bit the bowl off the

spoon.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [startled] Dear me!

LIZA [piling up the indictment] What call would a woman with that

strength in her have to die of influenza? What become of her new

straw hat that should have come to me? Somebody pinched it; and

what I say is, them as pinched it done her in.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. What does doing her in mean?

HIGGINS [hastily] Oh, that's the new small talk. To do a person

in means to kill them.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL [to Eliza, horrified] You surely don't believe

that your aunt was killed?

LIZA. Do I not! Them she lived with would have killed her for a

hat-pin, let alone a hat.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. But it can't have been right for your father

to pour spirits down her throat like that. It might have killed

her.

LIZA. 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.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. Do you mean that he drank?

LIZA. Drank! My word! Something chronic.

MRS. EYNSFORD HILL. How dreadful for you!

LIZA. Not a bit. It never did him no harm what I could see. But

then he did not keep it up regular. [Cheerfully] On the burst, as

you might say, from time to time. And always more agreeable when

he had a drop in. When he was out of work, my mother used to give

him fourpence and tell him to go out and not come back 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. [Now

quite at her ease] You see, it's like this. If a man has a bit of

a conscience, it always takes him when he's sober; and then it

makes him low-spirited. A drop of booze just takes that off and

makes him happy. [To Freddy, who is in convulsions of suppressed

laughter] Here! what are you sniggering at?

FREDDY. The new small talk. You do it so awfully well.

LIZA. If I was doing it proper, what was you laughing at? [To

Higgins] Have I said anything I oughtn't?

MRS. HIGGINS [interposing] Not at all, Miss Doolittle.

LIZA. Well, that's a mercy, anyhow. [Expansively] What I always

say is—

HIGGINS [rising and looking at his watch] Ahem!

LIZA [looking round at him; taking the hint; and rising] Well: I

must go. [They all rise. Freddy goes to the door]. So pleased to

have met you. Good-bye. [She shakes hands with Mrs. Higgins].

MRS. HIGGINS. Good-bye.

LIZA. Good-bye, Colonel Pickering.

PICKERING. Good-bye, Miss Doolittle. [They shake hands].

LIZA [nodding to the others] Good-bye, all.

FREDDY [opening the door for her] Are you walking across the

Park, Miss Doolittle? If so—

LIZA. Walk! Not bloody likely. [Sensation]. I am going in a taxi.

[She goes out].

Pickering gasps and sits down. Freddy goes out on the balcony to

catch another glimpse of Eliza.