Enter Slipper with a Tailor, a Shoomaker, and a Cutler.
Slip. Taylor.
Tayl. Sir.
Slip. Let my dubblet bee white Northren, fiue groates the
yard, I tell thee I will bee braue.
Tayl. It shall sir. 1660
Slip. Now sir, cut it me like the battlements of a Custerd,
ful of round holes: edge me the sleeues with Couentry-blew,
and let the lynings bee of tenpenny locorum.
Tayl. Very good sir.
Slip. Make it the amorous cut, a flappe before.
Tayl. And why so? that fashion is stale.
Slip. Oh friend, thou art a simple fellow, I tell thee, a flap is
a great friend to a storrie, it stands him in stead of cleane napery,
and if a mans shert bee torne, it is a present penthouse to
defend him from a cleane huswifes scoffe. 1670