Geoffrey hath mayde, lyk, an interviewe wyth Parys Launcecrona.
GC: What occupacioun dide ye dreme of whanne ye were a yonge girle?
PL: Saynte. Kanst thou beleve yt? Y totallye wantede to be a saynte. But thenne Y dide discouer that seyntez aren supposid to yive up the worlde and to spende their lives in werkes of devocioun and charitee. And so Y thoghte: “that sucketh” and Y decidede to be riche insteade. So nowe Y haue bought manye a beggare, who Y do feede at my cost, and eftimes Y do commaunde them to thanke and prayse me so that Y feele lyk a seynte – but Y kan yet swyve and drynke depe of wyn and snorte the poudre of cockayne, the whiche no Seyntez do. For telle me, litel man, who beth the patron seynt of cocayne?
GC: Ther beth none, my ladye.
PL: Exactemundo, Jeffie.