I want from you. And
don't you be too sure of yourself or of me. I could have been a bad
girl if I'd liked. I've seen more of some things than you, for all your
learning. Girls like me can drag gentlemen down to make love to them
easy enough. And they wish each other dead the next minute.
HIGGINS. Of course they do. Then what in thunder are we quarrelling
about?
LIZA [much troubled] I want a little kindness. I know I'm a common
ignorant girl, and you a book-learned gentleman; but I'm not dirt under
your feet. What I done [correcting herself] what I did was not for the
dresses and the taxis: I did it because we were pleasant together and I
come--came--to care for you; not to want you to make love to me, and
not forgetting the difference between us, but more friendly like.
HIGGINS. Well, of course. That's just how I feel. And how Pickering
feels. Eliza: you're a fool.
LIZA. That's not a proper answer to give me [she sinks on the chair at
the writing-table in tears].
HIGGINS. It's all you'll get until you stop being a common idiot. If
you're going to be a lady, you'll have to give up feeling neglected if
the men you know don't spend half their time snivelling over you and
the other half giving you black eyes. If you can't stand the coldness
of my sort of life, and the strain of it, go back to the gutter. Work
til you are more a brute than a human being; and then cuddle and
squabble and drink til you fall asleep. Oh, it's a fine life, the life
of the gutter. It's real: it's warm: it's violent: you can feel it
through the thickest skin: you can taste it and smell it without any
training or any work. Not like Science and Literature and Classical
Music and Philosophy and Art. You find me cold, unfeeling, selfish,
don't you? Very well: be off with you to the sort of people you like.
Marry some sentimental hog or other with lots of money, and 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'd better get what
you can appreciate.
LIZA [desperate] Oh, you are a cruel tyrant. I can't talk to you: you
turn everything against me: I'm always in the wrong. But you know very
well all the time that you're nothing but a bully. You know 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 know well I couldn't bear to
live with a low common man after you two; and it's wicked and cruel
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