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John Lydgate quotes
For love is mor than gold or gret richesse; Gold faileth ofte; love wol abyde.
John Lydgate
A voluminous, prosaick, and drivelling Monk.
John Lydgate
For a story which is nat pleynli told, But constreynyd undir woordes fewe For lak off trouthe, wher thei be newe or olde, Men bi report kan nat the mater shewe.
John Lydgate
Trouthe wil out maugre of fals enuye, Rihtwysnesse may nat ben hid certeyn, As for a tyme it may been ovirleyn.
John Lydgate
Harde to likke hony out of a marbil stoon, For ther is nouthir licour nor moisture.
John Lydgate
Off oure language he was the lodesterre.
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.
John Lydgate
For he owre englishe gilte with his sawes, Rude and boistous firste be olde dawes, That was ful fer from al perfeccioun And but of litel reputacioun Til that he cam, and thorugh his poetrie, Gan oure tonge firste to magnifie And adourne it with his eloquence: To whom honour, laude and reuerence.
John Lydgate
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.
John Lydgate
For princis ofte, of furious hastynesse, Wil cachche a quarrel, causeless in sentence, Ageyn folk absent, thouh ther be non offence.
John Lydgate
There is no rose Spryngyng in gardeyns, but ther be sum thorn.
John Lydgate
Who lesethe his fredam, in faith! he loseth all.
John Lydgate
Odyous of olde been comparisonis.
John Lydgate