He Loved Chivalrye Trouthe And

Whan That Aprill With His Shoures Soote The Droghte Of March Hath Perced To The Roote.

Truth Is The Highest Thing That Man May Keep.

Soun Is Noght But Air Ybroken, And Every Speche That Is Spoken, Loud Or Privee, Foul Or Fair, In His Substaunce Is But Air; For As Flaumbe Is But Lighted Smoke, Right So Soun Is Air Ybroke.

The Cat Would Eat Fish But Would Not Get Her Feet Wet.

Go, Little Booke! Go, My Little Tragedie!