Tai. You say sooth, sir.
Slip. [giving money]. Hold, take thy money; there is seven shillings for the doublet, and eight for the breeches: seven and eight; by'rlady, thirty-six is a fair deal of money.
Tai. Farewell, sir.
Slip. Nay, but stay, tailor.
Tai. Why, sir?
Slip. Forget not this special make: let my back-parts be well lined, for there come many winter-storms from a windy belly, I tell thee. [Exit Tailor]. Shoemaker.
Shoe. Gentleman, what shoe will it please you to have?
Slip. A fine, neat calves'-leather, my friend.
Shoe. O, sir, that is too thin, it will not last you.