Ton. The writer of this note (reads). “Dear Parson, Marry this couple quickly, and marry them strong. The young man is worthy of any young lady in the place. The father of the lady, an ugly old scamp, objects; but I’ll give my consent and will pay all damages. Yours, Jotham Crusty.” These were my instructions, which I have carefully obeyed. I’ve brought back your chaise; and you’ll find my wife in it ready to thank her dear father for his thoughtful attention in giving her the husband of her choice.
Heavy. (Who has taken barber’s chair vacated by Crusty.) Crusty, you are slightly done.
Crusty. Oh, yes! this is nuts for you, you sour old hypochondriac. You think you are going to crow over me; but you shan’t. I’ve lost a daughter, but I’ve found a son. Here, Tonsor, here’s my hand: the old man’s sold, and must own up. Sell out this business, shut up shop, and come home.
Ton. Thank you! I’ll sell at once. Here’s Mike: he shall have it.
Crusty. He! why, look at my face!
Ton. We’ll set him up in business with Zeb.
Simper. That horrid bawbaw! look at my ambwosials.
Mike. Faix! I go into business wid dat black son of Africa?
Zeb. Hold yer hush! hold yer hush! dare’s no brack, now. What doz the Declamation of Indecempendence say?