His name is Black Quentin, one of Sir John Ramorny's followers.

He has been sent privately back to his own country of Fife." "What, Black Quentin?
Why, that is the very man that Henry and I, as we ever keep close together, struck at in the same moment, only my blow fell somewhat earlier.

I fear further feud will come of it, and so does the provost.

And is he recovered?
Why, then, I will be jovial, and since thou wilt not let me see how Kate becomes her night gear, I will back to the Griffin to my morrice dancers." "Nay, stay but one instant.

Thou art a comrade of Henry Wynd, and hast done him the service to own one or two deeds and this last among others.
I would thou couldst clear him of other charges with which fame hath loaded him." "Nay, I will swear by the hilt of my sword they are as false as hell, father Simon.