Beadle
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
Perhaps if she greets me cordially upon my return I shall give her a small
gift.

Beadle
Ladies in their sensitivities my lord,
Have a fragile sensibility.
When a girl’s emergent,
Probably it’s urgent,
You differ to her gentility, my lord.

Personal disorder cannot be ignored,
Given their gentile proclivities.
Meaning no offense,
It happens they resents it,
Ladies in their sensitivities my lord.

Judge
Stubble you say?
Perhaps at times I am 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 eau de cologne to grace my lord,
And musk to enhance the chase my lord,
You’ll dazzle the girl until.

Judge
Until??

Beadle
She bows to your every will

Judge
Perhaps you may be right, take me to him.