nor experter in their noble science' (well
put, you observe, sir)— 'noble science of
barbing than they be; and therefore, in the
fulness of their overflowing knowledge, they
have invented such strange fashions and
manners of cuttings, trimmings, shavings,
and washings, that you would wonder to see.
They have one manner of cut called the
French cut, another the Spanish cut; one
the Dutch cut, another the Italian; one the
new cut, another the old; one the bravado
fashion, another of the mane fashion; one a
gentleman's cut, another the common cut;
one cut of the court, another cut of the
camp; —with infinite the like which I overpass.
For they have other cuts innumerable;
and, when you come to be trimmed they will
ask you whether you will be cut to look
terrible to your enemy, or amiable to your
friend; grim and stern in countenance, or
pleasant and demure. Then, when they have
done all these feats, it is a world to consider
how their moustachios must be preserved
and laid out from one cheek to another —yea,
almost from one ear to another, and turned
up like two horns towards the forehead.
Besides that, when they come to the cutting
of the hair, what snipping and snapping of
scissors is there; what rubbing, what
scratching, what combing and cleaning, what
trickling and toying. And when they come
to washing, how gingerly they behave themselves
therein. For then shall your mouth
be bossed with lather, or foam, that riseth of
the balls (for they have their sweet balls
wherewith they use to wash); your eyes
must be anointed therewith also. Then
snap go the fingers full bravely, God wot.
Thus, this tragedy ended, comes warm
clothes to wipe and dry him withal; then
the hair of nostrils cut away, and everything
done in order, comely to behold.
You shall have, also, your orient perfumes
for your nose, your fragrant waters for your
face, wherewith you shall be all to
besprinkled; your music again and pleasant
harmony shall sound in your ears, and all to
tickle the same with vain delight. And
in the end your cloak shall be brushed, and
God be with you, gentlemen' —Ah! sir, there
are few passages in literature finer than that.
I seem to see the thing before me. O, the
palmy day of beautiful Queen Gloriana,
which is, Bess!"

"But I trust, also, Mr. Wigmaker, that
you seem also to see me before you, waiting,
in the days of Queen Victoria, to have my
hair cut."

"Certainly, sir. Would you like to play a
little on the cittern while I am employed
about your head? I have one here. In the
good old times, cittern and lute were at the
service of the barber's customers. Mr.
Battrick, one of our last great men, sir, had
a set of bells— Whittington's bells, they were
called. Also monkeys."

"Monkeys are still met with, and parrots."

"In-deed, sir?  I was not aware. Possibly
you may never have heard of Thomas
Battrick. He was born, sir, in the year one
thousand seven hundred and thirty, and he
died in the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifteen; so that he was a Nestor, sir, and
besides that, quite a Trojan. He practised in
Drury Lane, and in his later days there were
never less than seven fights in Drury Lane
every Sunday morning. He attended and
encouraged them all, sir, for he was a great
patron of the manly art of self-defence. He
didn't shave for a halfpenny on Sunday
mornings. Curious now, sir; that old man
remembered the time when there were no
shaving-brushes. Lather used to be put on,
sir, by the hand, until the French barbers
brought in the brush; in, I think I may say,
the year one thousand seven hundred and
fifty-six. A barber's shop in the old time,
sir, looked rather more like a surgery than
it does now. Do you remember the lines in
Shakespeare, sir?"

"Pshaw! What lines?"

"Why, sir, these:

'The strong statutes
Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
As much in mock as mark.'

"Forfeits? What forfeits?"

"Ah, that's the point, sir. Hear Doctor
Warburton upon that: 'Formerly with us
the better sort of people went to the barber's
shop to be trimmed, who then practised the
under parts of surgery; so that he had occasion
for numerous instruments, which lay
there ready for use; and the idle people
with whom his shop was generally crowded,
would be perpetually handling and misusing
them. To remedy which, I suppose, there
was placed up against the wall a table of
forfeitures, adapted to every offence of this
kind; which it is not likely would long
preserve its authority.'  Stevens says: 'I have
conversed with several people who had
repeatedly read the list of forfeits alluded to by
Shakespeare, but have failed in my endeavours
to procure a copy of it.' These forfeits, sir,
were as much in mock as mark, because the
barber had no authority of himself to enforce
them, and he put them up more in jest than
in earnest, nearly always in doggerel. Dr.
Henley perfectly remembered to have seen a
set of them in Devonshire. They were
printed like King Charles's bantering rules."

"What do I owe you?"

"Save me, sir, you are not going with only
one side of your hair cut! Excuse me, you
really must sit down, and if you could keep
your head still— let me see, what was I saying?
Three hundred and sixty halfpenny
beards shaved by one hand in a single day!
Impossible. Now, that reminds me —ha,
ha! —of the Flying Barber. But he is no
longer in existence. He used to run through
the villages, sir, with a can of hot water, his
razors, soap, and napkin, and his barber's