_Simper._ Be careful, bawbaw: don’t spoil my complexion; for it would be hawwible to meet my chawmew, the divine Kate Cwusty, with a howwid cut.
_Crusty._ Kate! this must be Simper. (_CRUSTY and SIMPER having their heads back in the chairs are supposed not to see each other._)
_Simper._ Yes, bawbaw, the rich Miss Kate Cwusty. Her fathaw’s immensely wich,--a gay old boy, who likes to save his money; but we’ll teach him better when we are mawwied.
_Crusty._ (_Aside._) Will you? confound you! we’ll see about that.
_Simper._ Bawbaw, be a little more gentle, if you please; handle my ambwosials very carefully.
_Zeb._ Ambrose who? Ambrose! by golly, I used to know an Ambrose down Souf,--a molasses-darkey, about your complex--
_Simper._ Why, you, bawbaw, do you mean to compare me to a negwo?
_Zeb._ Molasses-color, molasses-color! dat’s all.
_Zeb._ Hey! what’s dat you call? Hey! what’s dat, what den’s the Constitution say. Hey! (_flourishing razor._)
_Simper._ Good gwacious! put down that wazor!
_Zeb._ What did the ’mancipation krocklamation do, hey? (_Flourishing razor._)
_Simper._ Dear me! will you put down that wazor?
_Zeb._ Nigah! by golly, if you ain’t dark complexed yourself I’d--I’d--
_Simper._ Help! murdew! put down that wazor!
_Mike._ Faith, Zeb, if yer not quiet, out yer go.
_Zeb._ Ob course, ob course! what’s the dec--
_Mike._ Oh! whist wid yer blarney, and shave the man.
_Crusty._ Come, come, hurry up: will you never get through?
_Mike._ In a minute: aisy, aisy, sir! (_Enter HEAVYFACE._)
_Heavy._ Oh, yes! of course: all full, just as I expected! That’s the way the world over: there’s nothing but disappointment; every thing goes against me.
_Heavy._ Now, I suppose you call that consolation. I tell you the world is all going wrong; there’s nothing but misery and deceit in it. (_Takes a chair, and seats himself between the two barber’s chairs._) A man’s got no real friends in this world: your riches are deceitful, your dearest friend may be your foe. Now, I suppose you two chaps feel perfectly comfortable in those chairs, with a pair of grinning fiends standing over you with razors, ready at the slightest provocation to plunge them in your throats.
_Simper._ Oh, hawaws! } _Together rising up._ _Crusty._ What do you mean? }