OILY. But hair, when gray, will rapidly fall off,
And baldness will ensue.
JONES. I would be bald.
OILY. Perhaps you mean to say you'd like a wig.—
We've wigs so natural they can't be told
From real hair.
JONES. Deception I detest.
[Another pause ensues, during which OILY blows down JONES'S neck, and relieves him from the linen wrapper in which he has been enveloped during the process of hair-cutting.
OILY. We've brushes, soaps, and scent, of every kind.
JONES. I see you have. (Pays 6d.) I think you'll find that
right.
OILY. If there is nothing I can show you, sir,
JONES. No: nothing. Yet—there may be something, too,
That you may show me.
OILY. Name it, sir.
JONES. The door.