JUDGE (spoken): Walk home with me, For I have news for you. In order to shield her from the evils of this world, I have decided to marry Johanna next Monday. BEADLE (spoken): Ah, sir! Happy news, indeed! JUDGE (spoken): Strange... When I offered myself to her, She showed a certain reluctance. BEADLE (sung): Excuse me, my lord May I request, my lord Permission, my lord To speak? Forgive me, my lord If I suggest, my lord You're looking not your best, my lord There's powder upon your vest, my lord And stubble upon your cheek And ladies, my lord, are weak. JUDGE (spoken): Perhaps! If she greets me cordially upon my return, I shall give her a small gift! BEADLE: Ladies and their sensitivities, my lord! Have a fragile sensibility. When a girl's emergent, Probably, it's urgent, You refer to her gentility, my lord! Personal disorder cannot be ignored Given their gentile proclivities, Meaning no offenses It happens they resense it Ladies and their sensitivities, my lord! JUDGE (spoken): Stubble, you say? Perhaps at times I am a little over-hasty with my morning ablutions, BEADLE: 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 older cologne to brace, my lord And musk to enhance the chase, my lord You'll dazzle the girl until... JUDGE (spoken): Until? BEADLE: She bows to your every will. JUDGE (spoken): Perhaps you may be right! Take me to him!