"For the soul of Philip Sparrow, That was late slain at Carrow Among the Nunnes Black, For that sweet soul’s sake And for all sparrows’ souls Set in our bead-rolls, Pater noster qui With an Ave Mari."

"Twyt, Scot, go kepe thy den. Mell nat with Englyshe men. Thou dyd nothyng but barke At the castell of Warke."

"The kynges courte Shulde have the excellence; But Hampton Court Hath the preemynence!"

"Why come ye nat to court? To whyche court? To the kynges courte? Or to Hampton Court?"

"With solace and gladness, Much mirth and no madness, All good and no badness; So joyously, So maidenly, So womanly, Her demeaning."

"Thou hast to lytell myght Agaynst Englande to fyght."

"He knew what is what."

"By hoke ne by croke."

"The wolfe from the dore."

"I saye, thou madde Marche hare, I wondre howe ye dare Open your janglyng jawes To prech in any clawes, Lyke pratynge poppyng dawes, Agaynst her excellence, Agaynst her reverence, Agaynst her preemynence, Agaynst her magnifycence, That never dyde offence."

"At Christmas be merry and thankful withal, And feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small."

"Ye cobble and ye clout Holy scripture so about, That people are in great dout And feare leest they be out Of all good Christen order. Thus all thyng ye disorder Thorowe out every border."

"Far may be sought Erst that ye can find So courteous, so kind, As Merry Margaret, This midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon Or hawk of the tower."

"He ruleth all the roste."

"At Branxton More and Flodden hylles, Our Englysh bowes, our Englysh bylles, Agaynst you gave so sharpe a shower, That of Scotland ye lost the flower."

"How olde proverbys says, That byrd ys not honest That fylythe hys owne nest."

"Thy myrrour may be the devyllys ars."

"Contynually I shall remember The mery moneth of September, With the ix day of the same, For then began our myrth and game. So that now I have devysed, And in my mynde I have comprised, Of the prowde Scot, kynge Jemmy, To write some lytell tragedy, For no maner consyderacyon Of any sorowfull lamentacyon, But for the specyall consolacyon Of all our royall Englysh nacyon."

"When I remember again How my Philip was slain, Never half the pain Was between you twain, Pyramus and Thisbe, As then befell to me. I wept and I wailed, The tearės down hailed, But nothing it availed To call Philip again Whom Gib, our cat, hath slain."

"Maide, wydowe, or wyffe."

"The honor of Englond I lernyd to spelle, In dygnyte roiall that doth excelle."

"Like Andromach, Hector's wife, Was weary of her life, When she had lost her joy, Noble Hector of Troy; In like manner alsó Increaseth my deadly woe, For my sparrow is go."

"What dreamest thou, drunkard, drowsy pate? Thy lust and liking is from thee gone; Thou blinkard blowboll, thou wakest too late."

"O noble Chaucer, whos pullisshyd eloquence Oure Englysshe rude so fresshely hath set out, That bounde ar we with all deu reverence, With all our strength that we can brynge about, To owe to yow our servyce, and more if we mowte! But what sholde I say? Ye wote what I entende, Whiche glad am to please and loth to offende"

"There is nothynge that more dyspleaseth God, Than from theyr children to spare the rod."

"Gentle Paule, laie doune thy sweard, For Peter of Westminster hath shaven thy beard."

"Stedfast of thought, Wele made, wele wrought; Far may be sought Erst that ye can fynde So courteise, so kynde As mirry Margarete, This midsomer flowre, Jentyll as fawcoun Or hawke of the towre."

"PLA ce bo! Who is there, who? Di le xi! Dame Margery, Fa, re, my, my. Wherefore and why, why? For the soul of Philip Sparrow That was late slain at Carrow, Among the Nunnės Black. For that sweet soulės sake, And for all sparrows' souls, Set in our bead-rolls, Pater noster qui, With an Ave Mari, And with the corner of a Creed, The more shall be your meed."

"For though my ryme be ragged, Tattered and jagged, Rudely rayne beaten, Rusty and moughte eaten, It hath in it some pyth."

"In the spight of his teeth."

"If ye have reed de hyperdulia, Than ye know what betokeneth dulia: Than shall ye fynde it fyrme and stable, And to our faithe moche agreable, To worshyppe ymages of sayntes."

"A fool and his money be soon at debate: Which after with sorrow repents him too late."

"[He] spread his bread with all sorts of butter, yet none would stick thereon."

"She is the violet, The daisy delectable, The columbine commendable, The jelofer amiable; For this most goodly flower, This blossom of fresh colour, So Jupiter me succour, She flourisheth new and new In beauty and virtue."

"There must be candles."

"You ask me how it's possible for me to carry on. I wonder if I look like someone who looks like it's possible to carry on."

"Bloody music. I hate the way it infiltrates."

"It didn't work out the way it's supposed to."

"I mucked about with his hair. His shoes were where he left them. His shoes are where he left them."

"Sometimes because I'm sad I do bad things. I can't tell you what they are. They are too bad. And it's not fair on the cat.""

"I think human life is absurd. I think it is completely, utterly absurd. There is this planet and it's this tiny place in the universe and then on this planet are crawling over it these little people who think that their lives are so incredibly important and, you know, an enormous amount of effort is spent killing each other, which just drives me completely nuts when I think about it, and making people poor while other people have whatever they want, and it's utterly absurd."

"It's nice of you to say you'll always remember him. You won't."

"People are good," he said. "They'll all be good to you. Except one."

"Respect is fatal, isn't it?"

"He wanted to make a mirror. Glass, mercury and a wooden frame- the perfect mirror. But he was no good at it. So he went to the people he knew and asked them for a mirror. All they could give him were bits of old mirror. He took these home, stuck them on a board and hung it up. It's a mirror."

"dear joe, your wild noisy huge brother is dead. I couldn't do what my parents did: bring two boys, four years apart through the maze."

"Sad is anywhere. It comes along and finds you."

"The competition between chunks of capital is getting fiercer, there is the same old same old desperate need to keep wages down, desperate need to substitute machines for labour (but that costs trillions of investment) and no matter how hard you exploit workers, you still need to sell stuff to them, and if their wages are low, they can't buy the stuff. You can force the poorly paid into borrowing money (credit cards, wonga etc) but there comes a point when that causes a credit crisis: someone somewhere says they want some dosh and a bank somewhere says they haven't got the dosh (Northern Rock, last time). Let's remember, none of this is caused by migrants or left social democrats. This is a crisis entirely born from a system that is locked into competition for markets. So, these fervid rows between squadrons of extremely unpleasant individuals are rows between people who deep down know that they can't control this system of running the making and distribution of the things we need. They are just coming up with fantasies on how to stay in power while the next phase veers from crisis to crisis. It is terrible for millions of people in awful insecure, low paid jobs and/or in insecure, lousy housing, or if they are disabled, or for millions trying to migrate their way out of poverty and despair. We should be alarmed when members of the ruling class start pleading with us to take sides with them against the 'elite': one section of the elite calling for us to oppose the elite."