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.”