Come on! (TODD follows. She disappears into the back parlor and re-emerges) No problem there. He's still sleeping. He's simple as a baby lamb. Later I can fob him off with some story easy. But him! (Indicating the tonsorial parlor above) What are we going to do with him?
TODD (Disinterestedly): Later on, when it's dark, we'll take him to some secret place and bury him.
MRS. LOVETT: Well, of course, we could do that. I don't suppose there's any relatives going to come poking around looking for him. But.. . (Pause. Chord)
You know me. Sometimes ideas just pop into me head and I keep thinking . ..
(Sings)
Seems a downright shame . . .
TODD: Shame?
MRS. LOVETT:
Seems an awful waste .. .
Such a nice plump frame
Wot's-his-name
Has...
Had . ..
Has...
Nor it can't be traced.
Business needs a lift —
Debts to be erased —
Think of it as thrift,
As a gift...
If you get my drift.. .
(TODD stares into space)
No?
(She sighs)
Seems an awful waste.
I mean,
With the price of meat what it is,
When you get it,
If you get it—
TODD (Becoming aware, chuckling): Ah!
MRS. LOVETT:
Good, you got it.
(Warming to it)
Take, for instance,
Mrs. Mooney and her pie shop.
Business never better, using only
Pussycats and toast.
And a pussy's good for maybe six or
Seven at the most.
And I'm sure they can't compare
As far as taste —
TODD:
MRS. LOVETT,
What a charming notion,
Eminently practical and yet
Appropriate, as always.
Mrs. Lovett
How I've lived without you
All these years I'll never know!
How delectable!
Also undetectable.
How choice!
How rare!
MRS. LOVETT:
Well, it does seem a
Waste ...
It's an idea ...
Think about it...
Lots of other gentlemen'll
Soon be coming for a shave
Won't they?
Think of
All them
Pies!
TODD:
For what's the sound of the world out there?
MRS. LOVETT:
What, Mr. Todd,
What, Mr. Todd,
What is that sound?
TODD:
Those crunching noises pervading the air?
MRS. LOVETT:
Yes, Mr. Todd,
Yes, Mr. Todd,
Yes, all around —
TODD:
It's man devouring man, my dear,
And who are we
To deny it in here?
MRS. LOVETT:
Then who are we
To deny it in here?
TODD: These are desperate times, Mrs. Lovett, and desperate measures are called for.
(She goes to the counter and comes back with an imaginary pie)
MRS. LOVETT: Here we are, hot from the oven.(She holds it out to him)
TODD:
What is that?
MRS. LOVETT:
It's priest.
Have a little priest.
TODD:
Is it really good?
MRS. LOVETT:
Sir, it's too good,
At least.
Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh,
So it's pretty fresh.
TODD (Looking at it):
Awful lot of fat.
MRS. LOVETT:
Only where it sat.
TODD:
Haven't you got poet
Or something like that?
MRS. LOVETT:
No, you see the trouble with poet
Is, how do you know it's
Deceased?
Try the priest.
TODD (Tasting it): Heavenly.
(MRS. LOVETT giggles)
Not as hearty as bishop, perhaps, but not as bland as curate, either.
MRS. LOVETT: And good for business — always leaves you wanting more. Trouble is, we only get it in Sundays . . . (TODD chuckles. MRS. LOVETT presents another imaginary pie)
Lawyer's rather nice.
TODD:
If it's for a price.
MRS. LOVETT:
Order something else, though, to follow,
Since no one should swallow
It twice.
TODD:
Anything that's lean.
MRS. LOVETT:
Well, then, if you're British and loyal,
You might enjoy Royal
Marine.
(TODD makes a face)
Anyway, it's clean.
Though, of course, it tastes of wherever it's been.
TODD (Looking past her at an imaginary oven):
Is that squire
On the fire?
MRS. LOVETT:
Mercy no, sir,
Look closer,
You'll notice it's grocer.
TODD:
Looks thicker.
More like vicar.
MRS. LOVETT:
No, it has to be grocer — it's green.
TODD:
The history of the world, my love —
MRS. LOVETT:
Save a lot of graves,
Do a lot of relatives favors ...
TODD:
— is those below serving those up above.
MRS. LOVETT:
Everybody shaves,
So there should be plenty of flavors ...
TODD:
How gratifying for once to know —
BOTH:
— that those above will serve those down below!
MRS. LOVETT: Now, let's see ... (Surveying an imaginary tray of pies on the counter) We've got tinker ...
TODD (Looking at it): Something pinker.
MRS. LOVETT: Tailor?
TODD (Shaking his head): Paler.
MRS. LOVETT: Butler?
TODD: Subtler.
MRS. LOVETT: Potter?
TODD (Feeling it): Hotter.
MRS. LOVETT: Locksmith?
(TODD shrugs, defeated. MRS. LOVETT offers another imaginary pie)
Lovely bit of clerk.
TODD:
Maybe for a lark ...
MRS. LOVETT:
Then again, there's sweep
If you want it cheap
And you like it dark.
(Another)
Try the financier.
Peak of his career.
TODD:
That looks pretty rank.
MRS. LOVETT:
Well, he drank.
It's a bank
Cashier.
Last one really sold.
(Feels it)
Wasn't quite so old.
TODD:
Have you any BEADLE?
MRS. LOVETT:
Next week, so I'm told.
BEADLE isn't bad till you smell it
And notice how well it's
Been greased.
Stick to priest.
(Offers another pie)
Now this may be a bit stringy, but then, of course, it's fiddle player.
TODD: This isn't Fiddle player. It's piccolo player.
MRS. LOVETT: How can you tell?
TODD: It's piping hot.
(Giggles)
MRS. LOVETT (Snorts with glee): Then blow on it first. (TODD guffaws)
TODD:
The history of the world, my sweet —
MRS. LOVETT:
Oh, Mr. Todd,
Ooh, Mr. Todd,
What does it tell?
TODD:
— is who gets eaten and who gets to eat.
MRS. LOVETT:
And, Mr. Todd,
Too, Mr. Todd,
Who gets to sell.
TODD:
But fortunately, it's also clear —
TODD: MRS. LOVETT:
That everybody But everybody
Goes down well with beer. Goes down well with beer.
MRS. LOVETT: Since marine doesn't appeal to you, how about rear admiral?
TODD: Too salty. I prefer general.
MRS. LOVETT: With or without his privates? "With" is extra. (TODD chortles)
TODD (As MRS. LOVETT offers another pie): What is that?
MRS. LOVETT:
It's fop.
Finest in the shop.
Or we have some shepherd's pie peppered
With actual shepherd
On top.
And I've just begun.
Here's the politician — so oily
It's served with a doily —
(TODD makes a face)
Have one.
TODD:
Put it on a bun.
(As she looks at him quizzically)
Well, you never know if it's going to run.
MRS. LOVETT:
Try the friar.
Fried, it's drier.
TODD:
No, the clergy is really
Too coarse and too mealy.
MRS. LOVETT:
Then actor —
That's compacter.
TODD:
Yes, and always arrives overdone.
I'll come again when you
Have JUDGE on the menu . . .
MRS. LOVETT: Wait! True, we don't have JUDGE — yet — but would you settle for the next best thing?
TODD: What's that?
MRS. LOVETT (Handing him a butcher's cleaver): Executioner. (TODD roars, and then, picking up her wooden rolling pin, hands it to her)
TODD:
Have charity toward the world, my pet.
MRS. LOVETT:
Yes, yes, I know, my love —
TODD:
We'll take the customers what we can get
MRS. LOVETT:
High-born and low, my love
TODD:
We'll not discriminate great from small
No, we'll serve anyone —
Meaning anyone —
BOTH:
And to anyone
At all!
(Music continues as the two of them brandish their “weapons." The scene blacks out).
- Stephen Sondheim, 'A Little Priest', Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, 1979
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