Letter
I would that I might arrive after these presents, my lady, to greet thee as befits this illustrious day; but mine hands are soiled with the mire of strife, my face is grimy with the growth of days and I fear me I should offend thy daintiness.
So I send thee these and this writing with my hearts true homage and the hope for us both of many peaceful rounds of the day.
Ever Thine
Errol.