More from John Skelton

  1. In the spight of his teeth.
  2. By hoke ne by croke.
  3. For though my ryme be ragged, Tattered and jagged, Rudely rayne beaten, Rusty and moughte eaten, It hath in it some pyth.
  4. The wolfe from the dore.
  5. Like Andromach, Hector's wife, Was weary of her life, When she had lost her joy, Noble Hector of Troy; In like manner also Increaseth my de…
  6. Maide, wydowe, or wyffe.
  7. 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 …
  8. 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 …

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