The Lady's Paying - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Patti LuPone, Kevin Anderson

Hurry up, the birthday boy is on his way

This is a surprise celebration

I hope you’ve remembered everything I’ve said

I want to see a total transformation

What’s all this?

Happy birthday, darling.

Did you think we’d forgotten?

Well, I … I don’t know

These people are from the best men’s shop in town.

I had them close it down for

the day

Norma, now listen!

I’ll leave you boys to it

Happy birthday, welcome to your shopathon!

What’s going on?

Help yourself, it’s all been taken care of

Anyone who’s anyone is dressed by me

Well, golly gee

Pick out anything you’d like a pair of

You just point, I’ll do the rest

I’ve brought nothing but the best

You’re a very lucky writer

Come along now, get undressed

Unless I’m much mistaken

That’s a 42-inch chest

I don’t understand a word you’re saying

Well, all you need to know’s the lady’s paying

It’s nice to get your just reward this time of year

Get outta here!

And all my merchandise is strictly kosher

When you’ve thrown away all your old worn-out stuff

Hey, that’s enough

Perhaps you’d like to model for my brochure

I have just the thing for you

Chalk-stripe suits

In black

SALESMAN 2]

Or blue

Glen plaid trousers

Cashmere sweaters

Bathing shorts for Malibu

Here’s a patent leather lace-up

It’s a virtuoso shoe

And a simply marvelous coat made of vicuna

You know what you can do with your vicuna

Come on Joe, you haven’t even started yet

You wanna bet?

I thought by now he’d look the height of fashion

He always takes forever making up his mind

Don’t be unkind

I thought you writers knew about compassion

I love flannel on a man

This will complement his tan

We’ll take two of these and four of those

I’m still your greatest fan!

Very soon now we’ll have stopped him

Looking like an also-ran

You’re going to make me sorry that I’m staying

Well, all right, I’ll choose, after all, I’m paying!

Evening clothes?

I want to see your most deluxe

Won’t wear a tux

Of course not, dear, tuxedos are for waiters

What we need are tails, a white tie and top hat

I can’t wear that

Joe, second-rate clothes are for second-raters

Norma, please…

Shut up, I’m rich

Now some platinum blonde bitch

I own so many apartments

I’ve forgotten which is which

I don’t have to go to premieres

I’m never on display

You seem to forget that I’m a writer

Who cares what you wear when you’re a writer?

I care, Joe, and please don’t be so mean to me

O.K., all right

You can’t come to my New Year’s Eve party in that filling-station shirt

I’ve been invited somewhere else on New Year’s Eve

Where?

Artie Green.

He’s an old friend of mine

I can’t do without you, Joe, I need you

I’ve sent out every single invitation

All right, Norma, I give in

Of course you do

And when they’ve dressed you

You’ll cause a sensation

We equip the chosen few of Movieland

The latest cut

We dress every movie star and crooner

From their shiny toecaps to their hatband

Conceal your gut

You won’t regret selecting the vicuna

If you need a hand to shake

If there’s a girl you want to make

If there’s a soul you’re out to capture

Or a heart you want to break

If you want the world to love you

You’ll have to learn to take

And gracefully accept the role you’re playing

You will earn every cent the lady’s paying

So why not have it all?

Now that didn’t hurt, did it?

The lady’s paying!