“
A cobbler, * * * produced several new grins of his own invention, having been used to cut faces for many years together over his last.
— Shoemaking
A cobbler, * * * produced several new grins of his own invention, having been used to cut faces for many years together over his last.
To one commending an orator for his skill in amplifying petty matters, Agesilaus said: "I do not think that shoemaker a good workman that makes a great shoe for a little foot."
Him that makes shoes go barefoot himself.
Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong,Your sonnets sure shall please—perhaps your shoes.
I can tell where my own shoe pinches me.
The shoemaker makes a good shoe because he makes nothing else.
Let firm, well hammer'd soles protect thy feetYou'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn.
I was not made of common calf,To roam the woods, or through the rivers wade.
Marry because you have drank with the king,Shall be called the trade of the gentle craft.
As he cobbled and hammered from morning till dark, Out of tune, ancient catches and glees.
One said he wondered that leather was not dearer than any other thing. Being demanded a reason: because, saith he, it is more stood upon than any other thing in the world.
The title of Ultracrepidarian critics has been given to those persons who find fault with small and insignificant details.
The wearer knows where the shoe wrings.
A careless shoe string, in whose tieI see a wilde civility.
Cinderella's lefts and rights Until now.
Oh, where did hunter win For my sweet.
The fairy stitching gleams And these toes.
But from the hoop's bewitching round,Her very shoe has power to wound.
* * * 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."
Hans Grovendraad, an honest clown, Was at his trade more clever.
What trade are you?Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
What trade art thou? answer me directly. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed sir, a mender of bad soles.
Thou art a cobbler, art thou? Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: * * * I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes.
Wherefore art not in thy shop to-day?Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work.
You cannot put the same shoe on every foot.
When bootes and shoes are torne up to the lefts,Coblers must thrust their awles up to the hefts.
Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone, Whose gentle fingers bound it!
