THE TAILOR AND THE UNDERTAKER.
(The two tradesmen call for orders respecting a supposed corpse.)
Enter Shears, a tailor, and Grizley, a servant.
Griz. Mr. Shears, sir,—I’ll tell him, sir.
Shears. Yes, Mr. Shears, to take orders for his mourning. (Exit Grizley.) A bailiff shall carry them home, tho’—yet no tailor in town so complacently suits his own dress to the present humour of his employer—to a brisk bridegroom, I’m white as a swan, and here, to this woful widower, I appear black—black as my own goose.
Enter Undertaker.
Under. “Hearse—mourning-coaches—scarfs—pall.” Um—ay—if the cash was plenty this might turn out a pretty sprightly funeral.
Shears. Servant, sir.
Under. Scarfs—a merry death—coffin—um—ay——
Shears. A sudden affair this, sir.