All is not golde that outward shewith bright. - John Lydgate

Harde to likke hony out of a marbil stoon,
For ther is nouthir licour nor moisture.

For princis ofte, of furious hastynesse,
Wil cachche a quarrel, causeless in sentence,
Ageyn folk absent, thouh ther be non offence.

In images of horror, and in a certain terrible greatness, our author comes far behind Chaucer. Whether they were not suited to the genius or the temper of Lydgate, I do not determine; but it is certain that, though they naturally seemed to present themselves, he has almost generally chose to avoid them: yet is there frequently a stiller kind of majesty both in his thought and expression, which makes one of his principal beauties.