I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
	Nor actions, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
	To stir men’s blood: I only speak right on.

Shakespeare.    

	This is some fellow,
	Who having been prais’d for bluntness, doth affect
	A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb,
	Quite from his nature: he can’t flatter, he!
	An honest mind and plain,—he must speak truth!
	And they will take it so; if not he’s plain.
	These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
	Harbor more craft, and far corrupter ends,
	Than twenty silly, ducking observants,
	That stretch their duty nicely.

Shakespeare.