The wearer knowes, where the shoe wrings. [The wearer knows best where the shoe pinches.]

Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong, Compose at once a slipper and a song; So shall the fair your handiwork peruse, Your sonnets sure shall please--perhaps your shoes.

. . . And holding out his shoe, asked them whether it was not new and well made. "Yet," added he, "none of you can tell where it pinches me."

Remember, cobbler, to keep to your leather. [Lat., Memento, in pellicula, cerdo, tenere tuo.]

Oh, where did hunter win So delicate a skin For her feet? You lucky little kid, You perished, so you did, For my sweet.

Cinderella's lefts and rights To Geraldine's were frights, And I trow The damsel, deftly shod, Has dutifully trod Until now.