Fal.

Hal, if thou see me down in the battel, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.

P. Henry.

Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that friendship: Say thy prayers, and farewel.

Fal.

I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well.

P. Henry.

Why, thou owest heav'n a death.

Fal.

'Tis not due yet: I would be loth 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. But how if honour prick me off, when I come on? &plquo;how then? can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no: honour hath no skill in surgery then? no. What is honour? a word. What is that word honour? Air; a trim Reckoning.—Who hath it? he that dy'd a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. Is it 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; ^{1 note}honour is a meer scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.&prquo;