Enter Giovanno, Evadne, and Nurse.
Gio. 'Tis a neat gown, and fashionable, madam; is't not, love?
Nur. Upon my virginity, wonderful handsome: dear, when we are married, I'll have such a one; shall I not, chicken, ha?
Gio. What else, kind nurse?
Nur. Truly you tailors are the most sanctified members of a kingdom: how many crooked and untoward bodies have you set upright, that they go now so straight in their lives and conversation, as the proudest on them all?
Gio. That's certain, none prouder.
Evad. How mean you, sir?
Gio. Faith, madam, your crooked movables in artificial bodies, that rectify the deformity of nature's overplus, as bunching backs: or scarcity, as scanty shoulders—are the proudest creatures; you shall have them jet it with an undaunted boldness; for the truth is, what they want in substance they have in air: they will scold the tailor out of his art, and impute the defect of nature to his want of skill, though his labour make her appearance pride-worthy.
Nur. Well said, my bird's-nye, stand for the credit of tailors whilst thou livest; wilt thou not, chuck? Ha, say'st thou, my dear?
Gio. I were ungrateful else.