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Sister, look ye,
How, by a new creation of my tailor's
I've shook off old mortality.
Sister, look ye,
How, by a new creation of my tailor's
I've shook off old mortality.
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.
King Stephen was a worthy peere,
His breeches cost him but a crowne;
He held them sixpence read more
King Stephen was a worthy peere,
His breeches cost him but a crowne;
He held them sixpence all too deere,
Therefore he call'd the taylor lowne.
Th' embroider'd suit at least he deem'd his prey;
That suit an unpaid tailor snatched away.
Th' embroider'd suit at least he deem'd his prey;
That suit an unpaid tailor snatched away.
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.]
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?
Get me some French tailor
To new-create you.
Get me some French tailor
To new-create you.
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.