THE TAILOR AND THE UNDERTAKER.
Reading edition
(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.
Under. Sudden—ah! I’m always prepared for death.
Shears. Sign of a good liver.
Under. No tradesman within the bills of mortality lives better.
Shears. You’ve many customers then, sir?
Under. Not one breathing.
Shears. You disoblige them, perhaps?
Under. Why, the truth is, sir, tho’ my friends would die to serve me, yet I can’t keep one three days without turning up my nose at him—Od so! I forgot to take measure of the body.
Shears (aside). Oh, oh!—a brother tailor—you measure nobody here.
Under. Yes, I shall—Mr. Sandford’s body.
Shears. For what, pray?
Under. For a wooden surtout lined with white satin.
Shears (aside). Odd sort of mourning!—But, sir, I have the business of this family.
Under. You! I know I have had it since St. James’s churchyard was set on fire by old Mattack the grave-digger, twenty years last influenza business. I have nineteen bodies under lock and key this moment.
Shears. You may have bodies, skirts, cuffs, and buttons—my business!—ask my foreman—I don’t set a stitch—I’m merely an undertaker.
Under. Undertaker! so am I!—and for work——
Shears. Now I do no work—I cut out indeed——
Under. Cut out! oh, you embowel ’em, perhaps—can you make a mummy in the Egyptian fashion?
Shears. I never made masquerade habits.
Under. What! could you stuff a person of rank, to send him sweet over sea?
Shears. Stuff! persons of rank—Irish tabinets are in style for people of rank.
Under. Nothing like sage, thyme, pepper and salt.
Shears. Pepper and salt!—thunder and lightning!—for a colour!
Under. Thunder and lightning! why, you are in the clouds, man—in one word, could you pickle a Duke?
Shears. I pickle a Duke!
Under. Could you place a lozenge over a window, or make out a coat for a hatchment, without the help of a herald?
Shears. Mr. Hatchment! never made a coat for a gentleman of that name.
Under. Mr. Hatchment—you’ve a skull as thick as a tombstone.
Shears. Mayhap so, but I’ll let you know no cross-legg’d and bandy button-making, Bedford-bury, shred-seller shall rip a customer from me.
Under. Friend, depart in peace—or my cane shall make you a memento mori to all impertinent rascals.
Shears. Here’s a cowardly advantage! to attack a naked man—lay by your cane, and I’ll talk to you.
(The Undertaker throws down his cane, which Shears takes up and beats him with.)
Under. Oh, death and treachery! help! murder!
Enter Dennis.
Den. Hey! what’s all this?
“I PERCEIVE THIS MISTAKE.”
Under. A villain!—why, here’s another undertaker insists that he’s to bury your master.
Shears. Oh, thread and needles! I bury a gentleman! but, egad, you’re a frolicsome tailor.
Under. Tailor! oh, you son of a sexton! call you me tailor? a more capital undertaker than yourself.
Shears. Zounds, man, I’m no undertaker! I’m a tailor.
Under. And, zounds, man—tailor, I mean—I’m an undertaker.
Den. (aside). I perceive this mistake. One word, good gentlemen mechanics—Mr. Tailor!
Shears. Sir!
Den. My lady is not dead.
Shears. Your lady not dead!
Den. No, nor my master neither.
Under. Your master not dead!
Den. No.
Under. Then perhaps he don’t want to be buried!
Den. Not alive, I believe.
Under. The most good-for-nothing family in the parish.
Shears. By these shears, parchment of mine shall never cross a shoulder in it.[Exit.
Under. Zounds, I’ll go home and bury myself for the good of my family.[Exit.
John O’Keeffe.