Richard doesn’t seem to have been that into poetry, though Gower’s 33,000-line Confessio Amantis says in its prologue that Richard commissioned it. Doesn’t say he read it, mind you. But I can’t talk. I haven’t read a single syllable of any of those writers’ work and certainly won’t until I’ve watched the box set of The Sopranos that has been gathering dust in my possession for a decade and a half.
