Then saith Reynard:—
"God give him mischaunce,
That is so undiscreet of governaunce,
That jangleth, when he shoulde hold his peace."
And all men turned to look on Will Langland. But when Master Chaucer saw this, he put up his hand in a protest, and laughing he said:—
“Nay, lordings, lay not this at my door that I should trespass o' John Gower's launde, which is to meddle with my brother's mote.” And he went up to Long Will, and saith he:—
“Thou and I are old friends. Thou 'rt that singer of Malvern. Dost remember me, who I am?”
“The lark,—art thou,” said Will gently.
“Cuckoo, cuckoo!” quoth Master Chaucer, and stretching a-tiptoe he kissed Will Langland o' both cheeks.
But now were they 'ware of Richard's voice; and he sat scowling in his chair, with Simon Sudbury—that was Archbishop of Canterbury—bending above, a parchment in his hand.
“Let the Council wait,” said Richard.
“Sire, I have here the paper and a pen; do but sign thy name and I 'll no longer trouble thy merry-making;” urged the Archbishop.