With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots.
To be [fantastic] may become a youth
Of greater time than I shall show to be.
Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?
II. 7.
50 Jul. That fits as well as, ‘Tell me, good my lord,
What compass will you wear your farthingale?’
Why even what fashion thou best [likest], Lucetta.
Luc. You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam.
Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour’d.
55 Luc. A round hose, madam, now’s not worth a pin,