A tailor, though a man of upright dealing,--
True but for lying,--honest but for stealing,--
Did fall read more

A tailor, though a man of upright dealing,--
True but for lying,--honest but for stealing,--
Did fall one day extremely sick by chance
And on the sudden was in wondrous trance.

May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill,
And tailors' lays be longer than their bill!
While punctual beaux read more

May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill,
And tailors' lays be longer than their bill!
While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes,
And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.

'Twas when young Eustace wore his heart in's breeches.

'Twas when young Eustace wore his heart in's breeches.

It takes nine tailors to make a man.
[Fr., Il faut neuf tailleurs pour faire un homme.]

It takes nine tailors to make a man.
[Fr., Il faut neuf tailleurs pour faire un homme.]

(Cornwall:) Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man?
(Kent:) A tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a read more

(Cornwall:) Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man?
(Kent:) A tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not
have made him ill, though they had been but two years o' th'
trade.

Thy gown? Why, ay--come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God, what masquing stuff is there?
What's read more

Thy gown? Why, ay--come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God, what masquing stuff is there?
What's this, a sleeve? 'Tis like a demi-cannon.
What, up and down carved like an apple tart?
Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop.
Why, what's a devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?

(Cloten:) Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?
(Guiderius:) No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
read more

(Cloten:) Thou villain base,
Know'st me not by my clothes?
(Guiderius:) No, nor thy tailor, rascal,
Who is thy grandfather. He made those clothes,
Which, as it seems, make thee.

As if thou e'er wert angry
But with thy tailor! and yet that poor shred
Can bring read more

As if thou e'er wert angry
But with thy tailor! and yet that poor shred
Can bring more to the making up of a man,
Than can be hoped from thee; thou art his creature;
And did he not, each morning, new create thee,
Thou'dst stink and be forgotten.

'Tis not the robe or garment I affect;
For who would marry with a suit of clothes?

'Tis not the robe or garment I affect;
For who would marry with a suit of clothes?