What a fine man
Hath your tailor made you!

What a fine man
Hath your tailor made you!

Get me some French tailor
To new-create you.

Get me some French tailor
To new-create you.

(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.

Yes, if they would thank their maker,
And seek no further, but they have new creators,
God read more

Yes, if they would thank their maker,
And seek no further, but they have new creators,
God tailor and god mercer.

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?

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.]

One commending a Tayler for his dexteritie in his profession,
another standing by ratified his opinion, saying tailors had read more

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,

All his reverend wit
Lies in his wardrobe.

All his reverend wit
Lies in his wardrobe.

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.