Judge Turpin: “I have news for you, my friend. In order to shield
her from the evils of this world, I have decided to
marry my dear Johanna.”
Beadle Bamford: “Oh, sir! Happy news indeed!”
Judge Turpin: “Strange, though. When I offered myself to her, she
showed a certain... reluctance.”
Beadle Bamford: Excuse me, my lord
May I request, my lord
Permission, my lord, to speak
Forgive me if I suggest, my lord
You’re looking less than your best, my lord
There’s powder upon your vest, my lord
And stubble upon your cheek
And ladies, my lord, are weak
Judge Turpin: “Stubble, you say?
…Perhaps I am a little over-hasty in the mornings.”
Beadle Bamford: Fret not though, my lord
I know a place, my lord
A barber, my lord, of skill
Thus armed with a shaven face, my lord
Some eau de cologne to brace, my lord
And musk to enhance the chase, my lord
You’ll dazzle the girl until…
Judge Turpin: “Until?”
Beadle Bamford: She bows to your every will
Judge Turpin: “A barber? Take me to him.”
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