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: Ah, sir, happy news indeed.
Judge Turpin: Strange, though, when I offered myself to her, she showed a certain reluctance.
Beadle: [sings] 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 overhasty in the morning.
Beadle: [sings] 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: [sings] She bows to your every will.