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!

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