All language subtitles for Pygmalion.1938.480p.DVD.x264-HaB

So long, ducks.
See you in Piccadilly.

So long, 'Liza. Be good.

Why?

- 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.

Taxi!

Taxi! Taxi!

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.

Sorry.

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.

Charge? 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?

Hoxton.

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, Cambridge,

India.

- 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"!

Heavens, 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 27-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.

Oh!

Come on, Pickering.
This is a wonderful meeting.

Oh! 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!

Impudence!

Hello?

Hello? Hello?

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?

Amazing.

I rather fancy myself because I can
pronounce 24 distinct vowel sounds.

Your 130 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 24 distinct vowel sounds.

Good heavens. Is that me?

I can't hear any difference
between most of them.

Concealed microphone.

For unsuspecting victims.

- 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.

Good. 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.

Well. 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 18 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
60 or 70 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 60 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.

Higgins, 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 irresistible.

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.

Oh!

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, Eliza!

Eliza. Come here, Eliza.

Here, here, here, Eliza.

Have a chocolate, Eliza.

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,
Pickering?

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.

Oh!

Oh.

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. Help.

I've never been
treated like this before!

Stop it! Help!

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 tablecloth?

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, Doolittle?

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.

Luggage? 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, Doolittle.

I thank you kindly, guvnor.

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 50.

Why, you callous rascal.

Do you mean to say you'd sell
your daughter for 50 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, Doolittle.

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
unreasonable?

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.

See?

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, gentlemen.

Ew!

"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, Hartford.

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,

hurricanes hardly ever happen.

Hardly ever happen.

Hardly ever happen.

Oh.

How do you do?

Bad, bad, bad! Do it again.

You aren't trying. Do it again.

That's not good, Eliza.

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 45.

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. Oh.

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?

Professor... Higgins?

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,

hurricanes 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.

Killing.

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?

Ah.

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.

Charming.

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...

Well,

I must go now.

Good-bye, Mrs. Higgins.

- So glad to have met you.
- Good-bye, my dear.

Good-bye, Vicar.

- Good-bye, Colonel Pickering.
- Good-bye, Miss Doolittle.

Good...

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?

Good!

No, no, no! Do it again!

- I'll try.
- No, no, no!

I've told you 500 times!
You drive me mad, girl.

- Come, Higgins, be reasonable.
- Once more.

No.

- 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 3:00, 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 reasonable.

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.

♪♪

Maestro! Maestro!

- 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.

Indeed. 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?

Yes.

- 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?

Professor Higgins!

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.

Extraordinary.

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.

Enchanted.

- 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...

Oh.

I say, Pickering, do you know
what's happened... - ♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Charming.

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. Instinct.

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?

No!

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.

No.

Nothing more
for you to worry about.

Oh, God... I wish I was dead.

Why? 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 guttersnipe!

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.

Sir.

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 something.

Doolittle!

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 3,000 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 3,000 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? Pickering!

- 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.

Eliza.

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.

Owww!

Ha, ha. What did I tell you?
Victory.

Victory!

Ow. Ow.

Ow, ow, ow.

- Henry!
- Ow!

Eliza, it ain't my fault.

Your stepmother...

Henry... 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.

"Bridegroom."

What a word.

Makes a man realize
his position somehow.

So long. See you at the church.

Middle-class morality
claims its victim.

Eliza.

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.

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.

Good-bye, 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?