Get this No Fear to go!
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120 |
KING
Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge,
For on their answer will we set on them,
And God befriend us as our cause is just.
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KING
Then everyone get to their battalions. As soon as they respond, we’ll attack. May God be with us. Our cause is just!
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Exeunt all but PRINCE HENRY and
FALSTAFF
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Everyone exits except PRINCE HENRY and
FALSTAFF. |
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FALSTAFF
Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride me, so;
’tis a point of friendship.
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FALSTAFF
Hal, if you see me fall in battle, stand over me, like this. It would be an act of friendship.
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PRINCE HENRY
Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
Say thy prayers, and farewell.
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PRINCE HENRY
Only a giant could do you that friendship. Say your prayers, and farewell.
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125 |
FALSTAFF
I would ’twere bedtime, Hal, and all well.
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FALSTAFF
I wish it were bedtime, Hal, and everything were okay.
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PRINCE HENRY
Why, thou owest God a death.
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PRINCE HENRY
But you owe God a death.
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Exit
PRINCE HENRY
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PRINCE HENRY exits. |
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130 135 |
FALSTAFF
'Tis not due yet. I would be loath to pay Him before His day.
What need I be so forward with Him that calls not on me?
Well, ’tis no matter. Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if
honor prick me off when I come on? How then? Can honor
set to a leg? no. Or an arm? no. Or take away the grief of a
wound? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then? No. What
is honor? A word. What is in that word “honor”? What is that
“honor”? Air. A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died
o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. 'Tis
insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the
living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore,
I’ll none of it. Honor is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my
catechism.
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FALSTAFF
It’s not due yet. I’d hate to pay him before the due date. Why should I be so eager to pay him before he even asks for it? Well, it doesn’t matter: honor spurs me on. Yeah, but what if honor spurs me off once I’m on, and picks me out to die? What happens then? Can honor set a broken leg? No. Or an arm? No. Can it make a wound stop hurting? No. Honor can’t perform surgery, then? No. What is honor? A word. What is in that word, “honor?” What is that “honor?” Air. Quite a bargain! Who has it? A guy who died last Wednesday. Does he feel it? No. Does he hear it? No. It can’t be detected, then? Right—not by the dead, anyway. But won’t it live with the living? No. Why? Slander won’t allow it. That’s why I don’t want any part of it. Honor is nothing more than a gravestone, and that concludes my catechism.
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Exit |
He exits. |
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