Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only €10,99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Pygmalion
    Pygmalion
    Pygmalion
    Ebook140 pages2 hours

    Pygmalion

    By Bernard Shaw

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    One of George Bernard Shaw's best-known plays, Pygmalion was a rousing success on the London and New York stages, an entertaining motion picture and a great hit with its musical version, My Fair Lady. An updated and considerably revised version of the ancient Greek legend of Pygmalion and Galatea, the 20th-century story pokes fun at the antiquated British class system.
     
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMuhammad Ali
    Release dateJan 11, 2021
    ISBN9791220249492
    Pygmalion
    Author

    Bernard Shaw

    Dublin-born Bernard Shaw (1856–1950) was a playwright, essayist and journalist, prominent socialist, and noted vegetarian. He is best known for his plays, which include Arms and the Man (1894), Man and Superman (1905) and Pygmalion (1913). In 1925 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.

    Read more from Bernard Shaw

    Related to Pygmalion

    Related ebooks

    General Fiction For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      In Defense Of The Harvest

      Nov 10, 2021

      I know what you will all be thinking. It is true that I was asked to write this story by members of the current government. A government pertaining of a few politicians, lawmakers, and others who are currently subject to public scrutiny as possibly b

      10 min read

    • Article

      Treasure Trove

      Jan 21, 2021

      Treasure Trove
      8 min read

    • Article

      Mass Extinction

      Apr 15, 2021

      Mass Extinction
      8 min read

    • Article

      Top 5 Gothic books

      Feb 1, 2021

      Just as if you’re sad, you should listen to melancholy music, so in lockdown it can be a good idea to read stories of isolation and unhappiness. Autobiographical tales tell of Kavan’s poor relationship with her parents and husband, and her attraction

      1 min read

    • Article

      The Power And The Passion

      Sep 19, 2021

      The Power And The Passion
      4 min read

    • Article

      Gillian Anderson

      Dec 15, 2022

      Gillian Anderson
      14 min read

    • Article

      Bliss

      Jan 24, 2021

      Bliss
      33 min read

    • Article

      Trump Derangement Syndrome

      Feb 23, 2023

      Just like stains, some ghosts can prove more stubborn to remove than others. Whereas a quick splash of Holy Water and prayer might suffice to see off most spooks, others require rather more obscure methods of banishment. Yet for sheer oddness, the ef

      6 min read

    • Article

      Get Into Character

      Apr 2, 2020

      Get Into Character
      9 min read

    • Article

      New Grub Street

      Feb 8, 2023

      New Grub Street
      3 min read

    • Article

      Follow Her Forward, The Innocent Hare

      Jun 16, 2022

      It was the edge of a scrubby wood in Suffolk, sometime when I was at university – 1972 or 1973. I was having a picnic with friends, and we were playing frisbee, a red one, and I was running across the lumpy grassy terrain to where it had dropped. As

      12 min read

    • Article

      A Warning To The Fortean

      Jul 14, 2022

      A Warning To The Fortean
      9 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems

      Nov 1, 2024

      Because today, the leaves of the black walnut tree flicker a new season’s chartreuse,Because the pelts of both my cats gleam with the sheen of cherishment,Because Halloween-cobweb clouds in the blue blue blue blue blue,Because today, the only thing t

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Decline Of The English Ghost

      Nov 5, 2020

      A decline in the refinement and quality of the English ghost story has been observable for many years. In the early 1960s psychologist Nicholas Humphrey, then an undergraduate at Cambridge, heard distinguished philosopher Professor CD Broad complaini

      11 min read

    • Article

      Spooks, Spirits And Psychiatry

      Sep 28, 2023

      Spooks, Spirits And Psychiatry
      2 min read

    • Article

      THE (not so) STINKY MIDDLE AGES

      Dec 27, 2019

      THE (not so) STINKY MIDDLE AGES
      7 min read

    • Article

      Dracula’s Child

      Oct 7, 2020

      RELEASED OUT NOW! 569 pages | Paperback/ebook/audiobook Author JS Barnes Publisher Titan Books A sequel to Dracula is a great idea on paper, but it’s been written on too many pages here. Dracula’s Child has drained Bram Stoker’s poetry, and replaced

      1 min read

    • Article

      Britannia Strikes Back

      Dec 29, 2021

      Britannia Strikes Back
      4 min read

    • Article

      The Ruskington Horror

      Jan 28, 2021

      The Ruskington Horror
      17 min read

    • Article

      Pick Your Punk

      Aug 13, 2019

      Pick Your Punk
      6 min read

    • Article

      Fresh Paint

      Mar 19, 2021

      Fresh Paint
      2 min read

    • Article

      “Beware The Moon, Lads!”

      Dec 27, 2019

      “Beware The Moon, Lads!”
      7 min read

    • Article

      Ghost Girl, Banana

      Aug 21, 2023

      By the time I was 25, there were only two things I remembered about Mumma. The first was that she smelled of watermelons, the second was that we were happy. We’d taken our father’s name of course, but a name is only half a story. The other half exist

      6 min read

    • Article

      Life In The past Lane

      Aug 27, 2021

      Life In The past Lane
      5 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Pygmalion

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Pygmalion - Bernard Shaw

      Pygmalion

      Bernard Shaw

      ACT I

      Covent Garden at 11.15 p.m. Torrents of heavy summer rain. Cab whistles blowing frantically in all directions. Pedestrians running for shelter into the market and under the portico of St. Paul's Church, where there are already several people, among them a lady and her daughter in evening dress. They are all peering out gloomily at the rain, except one man with his back turned to the rest, who seems wholly preoccupied with a notebook in which he is writing busily.

      The church clock strikes the first quarter.

      THE DAUGHTER [in the space between the central pillars, close to the one on her left] I'm getting chilled to the bone. What can Freddy be doing all this time? He's been gone twenty minutes.

      THE MOTHER [on her daughter's right] Not so long. But he ought to have got us a cab by this.

      A BYSTANDER [on the lady's right] He won't get no cab not until half-past eleven, missus, when they come back after dropping their theatre fares.

      THE MOTHER. But we must have a cab. We can't stand here until half-past eleven. It's too bad.

      THE BYSTANDER. Well, it ain't my fault, missus.

      THE DAUGHTER. If Freddy had a bit of gumption, he would have got one at the theatre door.

      THE MOTHER. What could he have done, poor boy?

      THE DAUGHTER. Other people got cabs. Why couldn't he?

      Freddy rushes in out of the rain from the Southampton Street side, and comes between them closing a dripping umbrella. He is a young man of twenty, in evening dress, very wet around the ankles.

      THE DAUGHTER. Well, haven't you got a cab?

      FREDDY. There's not one to be had for love or money.

      THE MOTHER. Oh, Freddy, there must be one. You can't have tried.

      THE DAUGHTER. It's too tiresome. Do you expect us to go and get one ourselves?

      FREDDY. I tell you they're all engaged. The rain was so sudden: nobody was prepared; and everybody had to take a cab. I've been to Charing Cross one way and nearly to Ludgate Circus the other; and they were all engaged.

      THE MOTHER. Did you try Trafalgar Square?

      FREDDY. There wasn't one at Trafalgar Square.

      THE DAUGHTER. Did you try?

      FREDDY. I tried as far as Charing Cross Station. Did you expect me to walk to Hammersmith?

      THE DAUGHTER. You haven't tried at all.

      THE MOTHER. You really are very helpless, Freddy. Go again; and don't come back until you have found a cab.

      FREDDY. I shall simply get soaked for nothing.

      THE DAUGHTER. And what about us? Are we to stay here all night in this draught, with next to nothing on. You selfish pig—

      FREDDY. Oh, very well: I'll go, I'll go. [He opens his umbrella and dashes off Strandwards, but comes into collision with a flower girl, who is hurrying in for shelter, knocking her basket out of her hands. A blinding flash of lightning, followed instantly by a rattling peal of thunder, orchestrates the incident]

      THE FLOWER GIRL. Nah then, Freddy: look wh' y' gowin, deah.

      FREDDY. Sorry [he rushes off].

      THE FLOWER GIRL [picking up her scattered flowers and replacing them in the basket] There's menners f' yer! Te-oo banches o voylets trod into the mad. [She sits down on the plinth of the column, sorting her flowers, on the lady's right. She is not at all an attractive person. She is perhaps eighteen, perhaps twenty, hardly older. She wears a little sailor hat of black straw that has long been exposed to the dust and soot of London and has seldom if ever been brushed. Her hair needs washing rather badly: its mousy color can hardly be natural. She wears a shoddy black coat that reaches nearly to her knees and is shaped to her waist. She has a brown skirt with a coarse apron. Her boots are much the worse for wear. She is no doubt as clean as she can afford to be; but compared to the ladies she is very dirty. Her features are no worse than theirs; but their condition leaves something to be desired; and she needs the services of a dentist].

      THE MOTHER. How do you know that my son's name is Freddy, pray?

      THE FLOWER GIRL. Ow, eez ye-ooa san, is e? Wal, fewd dan y' de-ooty bawmz a mather should, eed now bettern to spawl a pore gel's flahrzn than ran awy atbaht pyin. Will ye-oo py me f'them? [Here, with apologies, this desperate attempt to represent her dialect without a phonetic alphabet must be abandoned as unintelligible outside London.]

      THE DAUGHTER. Do nothing of the sort, mother. The idea!

      THE MOTHER. Please allow me, Clara. Have you any pennies?

      THE DAUGHTER. No. I've nothing smaller than sixpence.

      THE FLOWER GIRL [hopefully] I can give you change for a tanner, kind lady.

      THE MOTHER [to Clara] Give it to me. [Clara parts reluctantly]. Now [to the girl] This is for your flowers.

      THE FLOWER GIRL. Thank you kindly, lady.

      THE DAUGHTER. Make her give you the change. These things are only a penny a bunch.

      THE MOTHER. Do hold your tongue, Clara. [To the girl]. You can keep the change.

      THE FLOWER GIRL. Oh, thank you, lady.

      THE MOTHER. Now tell me how you know that young gentleman's name.

      THE FLOWER GIRL. I didn't.

      THE MOTHER. I heard you call him by it. Don't try to deceive me.

      THE FLOWER GIRL [protesting] Who's trying to deceive you? I called him Freddy or Charlie same as you might yourself if you was talking to a stranger and wished to be pleasant. [She sits down beside her basket].

      THE DAUGHTER. Sixpence thrown away! Really, mamma, you might have spared Freddy that. [She retreats in disgust behind the pillar].

      An elderly gentleman of the amiable military type rushes into shelter, and closes a dripping umbrella. He is in the same plight as Freddy, very wet about the ankles. He is in evening dress, with a light overcoat. He takes the place left vacant by the daughter's retirement.

      THE GENTLEMAN. Phew!

      THE MOTHER [to the gentleman] Oh, sir, is there any sign of its stopping?

      THE GENTLEMAN. I'm afraid not. It started worse than ever about two minutes ago. [He goes to the plinth beside the flower girl; puts up his foot on it; and stoops to turn down his trouser ends].

      THE MOTHER. Oh, dear! [She retires sadly and joins her daughter].

      THE FLOWER GIRL [taking advantage of the military gentleman's proximity to establish friendly relations with him]. If it's worse it's a sign it's nearly over. So cheer up, Captain; and buy a flower off a poor girl.

      THE GENTLEMAN. I'm sorry, I haven't any change.

      THE FLOWER GIRL. I can give you change, Captain,

      THE GENTLEMEN. For a sovereign? I've nothing less.

      THE FLOWER GIRL. Garn! Oh do buy a flower off me, Captain. I can change half-a-crown. Take this for tuppence.

      THE GENTLEMAN. Now don't be troublesome: there's a good girl. [Trying his pockets] I really haven't any change—Stop: here's three hapence, if that's any use to you [he retreats to the other pillar].

      THE FLOWER GIRL [disappointed, but thinking three halfpence better than nothing] Thank you, sir.

      THE BYSTANDER [to the girl] You be careful: give him a flower for it. There's a bloke here behind taking down every blessed word you're saying. [All turn to the man who is taking notes].

      THE FLOWER GIRL [springing up terrified] I ain't done nothing wrong by speaking to the gentleman. I've a right to sell flowers if I keep off the kerb. [Hysterically] I'm a respectable girl: so help me, I never spoke to him except to ask him to buy a flower off me. [General hubbub, mostly sympathetic to the flower girl, but deprecating her excessive sensibility. Cries of Don't start hollerin. Who's hurting you? Nobody's going to touch you. What's the good of fussing? Steady on. Easy, easy, etc., come from the elderly staid spectators, who pat her comfortingly. Less patient ones bid her shut her head, or ask her roughly what is wrong with her. A remoter group, not knowing what the matter is, crowd in and increase the noise with question and answer: What's the row? What she do? Where is he? A tec taking her down. What! him? Yes: him over there: Took money off the gentleman, etc. The flower girl, distraught and mobbed, breaks through them to the gentleman, crying mildly] Oh, sir, don't let him charge me. You dunno what it means to me. They'll take away my character and drive me on the streets for speaking to gentlemen. They—

      THE NOTE TAKER [coming forward on her right, the rest crowding after him] There, there, there, there! Who's hurting you, you silly girl? What do you take me for?

      THE BYSTANDER. It's all right: he's a gentleman: look at his boots. [Explaining to the note taker] She thought you was a copper's nark, sir.

      THE NOTE TAKER [with quick interest] What's a copper's nark?

      THE BYSTANDER [inept at definition] It's a—well, it's a copper's nark, as you might say. What else would you call it? A sort of informer.

      THE FLOWER GIRL [still hysterical] I take my Bible oath I never said a word—

      THE NOTE TAKER [overbearing but good-humored] Oh, shut up, shut up. Do I look like a policeman?

      THE FLOWER GIRL [far from reassured] Then what did you take down my words for? How do I know whether you took me down right? You just show me what you've wrote about me. [The

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1