A voluminous, prosaick, and drivelling Monk. — John Lydgate

"He as a kyng is crowned in Fairie, With sceptre and suerd, & with his regalie Shal resorte as lord and souereyne, Out of Fairye & regne in Breteyne, And repaire ageyn the Rounde Table."

"Who lesethe his fredam, in faith! he loseth all."

"A prowde hert in a beggers brest, A fowle visage with gay temples of atyre, Horrible othes with an holy prist, A justice of juges to selle and lete to hyre, A knave to comande and have an empire, To yeve a jugement of that never was wrought, To preche of pees and sette eche man on fyre, It may wele ryme but it accordith nought."

"Woord is but wynd; leff woord and tak the dede."

"For love is mor than gold or gret richesse; Gold faileth ofte; love wol abyde."

"A wikked tonge wol alway deme amis."