Is a Fool, a Rogue, an Assassin?

I tell you every one that in court or camp, in tilt or tawny, i am your mate. And this rusty country smock, blazoned by miry ways and hasty travel, because tis a herald's breast is more honourable wear than any silken surtut that you boast of. But none of that glittering throng had aught to say. Those bold silken lordlings pushed back in a wide circle from where i stood fierce and tall in my muddy rags. Let me humbly crave the boon that he will hold his metled valour in curb, just so long as i may render that message,. which i surely have at