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'Twas when young Eustace wore his heart in's breeches. - Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Elder Brother (act V) Thy clothes are all the soul thou hast. - Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Honest Man's Fortune (act V, sc. 3, l. 170) 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. - Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron), English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (l. 781) Great is the Tailor, but not the greatest. - Thomas Carlyle, Essays--Goethe's Works Sister, look ye, How, by a new creation of my tailor's I've shook off old mortality. - John Ford, The Fancies Chaste and Noble (act I, sc. 3) 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. - Sir John Harington (Harrington), Of a Precise Tailor One commending a Tayler for his dexteritie in his profession, another standing by ratified his opinion, saying tailors had their business at their fingers' ends. - William Hazlitt (1), Shakespeare Jest Books--Conceits, Clinches, Flashes and Whimzies (no. 93) 'Tis not the robe or garment I affect; For who would marry with a suit of clothes? - John Heywood, Royal King and Loyal Subject (act II, sc. 2) It takes nine tailors to make a man. [Fr., Il faut neuf tailleurs pour faire un homme.] - quoted by Comte de la Villemarque, as a Breton proverb Yes, if they would thank their maker, And seek no further, but they have new creators, God tailor and god mercer. - Philip Massinger, A Very Woman (act III, sc. 1, l. 161) What a fine man Hath your tailor made you! - Philip Massinger, City Madam (act I, sc. 2) 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. - Philip Massinger, Fatal Dowry (act III, sc. 1) Get me some French tailor To new-create you. - Philip Massinger, Renegade (act III, sc. 1) 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. - Thomas Percy, Reliques--Take Thy Old Cloak About Thee (st. 7) Th' embroider'd suit at least he deem'd his prey; That suit an unpaid tailor snatched away. - Alexander Pope, The Dunciad (bk. II, l. 117) O monstrous arrogance, thou liest, thou thread, Thou thimble, Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail, Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket, thou:-- Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread! Away thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard, As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st! - William Shakespeare Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man? Ay, a tailor, sir; a stone-cutter or a painter could not have made him so ill, though he had been but two hours at the trade. - William Shakespeare Thou villain base, Know'st me not by my clothes? No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee. - William Shakespeare (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. - William Shakespeare, Cymbeline (Cloten & Guiderius at IV, ii) (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. - William Shakespeare, King Lear (Cornwall & Kent at II, ii) 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? - William Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew (Petruchio at IV, iii) All his reverend wit Lies in his wardrobe. - John Webster, White Devil (act II, sc 1)
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