Pygmalion (Annotated)

by George Bernard Shaw

THE GENTLEMAN [returning to his former place on the note taker's left] How do you do it, if I may ask? THE NOTE TAKER. Simply phonetics. The science of speech. That's my profession; also my hobby. Happy is the man who can make a living by his hobby! You can spot an Irishman or a Yorkshireman by his brogue. I can place any man within six miles. I can place him within two miles in London. Sometimes within two streets. THE FLOWER GIRL. Ought to be ashamed of himself, unmanly coward! THE GENTLEMAN. But is there a living in that? THE NOTE TAKER. Oh yes. Quite a fat one. This is an age of upstarts. Men begin in Kentish Town with 80 pounds a year, and end in Park Lane with a hundred thousand. They want to drop Kentish Town; but they give themselves away every time they open their mouths. Now I can teach them— THE FLOWER GIRL. Let him mind his own business and leave a poor girl— THE NOTE TAKER [explosively] Woman: cease this detestable boohooing instantly; or else seek the shelter of some other place of worship. THE FLOWER GIRL [with feeble defiance] I've a right to be here if I like, same as you. THE NOTE TAKER. A woman who utters such depressing and disgusting sounds has no right to be anywhere—no right to live. Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech: that your native language is the language of Shakespear and Milton and The Bible; and don't sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon. THE FLOWER GIRL [quite overwhelmed, and looking...