TAILOR
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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
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Be sure your tailor is a man of sense.—O. W. HOLMES, A Rhymed Lesson
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What a fine man
Hath your tailor made you!—MASSINGER, City Madam
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As if thou e'er wert angry
But with thy tailor! and yet that poor shred
Can bring more to the making 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.—MASSINGER, Fatal Dowry
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Get me some French tailor
To new-create you!—MASSINGER, Renegade
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Th' embroider'd suit at least he deem'd his prey;
That suit an unpaid tailor snatch'd away.—POPE, The Dunciad
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Thy gown? why, ay;—come, tailor, let us see't
O mercy God! what masquing stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What, up and down, carv'd 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 i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this!—SHAKESPEARE, The Taming of the Shrew
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