William Shakespeare on Honor
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“For he's honourable And doubling that, most holy.”
“For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men.”
“Honours thrive, When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.”
“Methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon.”
“Thou art a fellow of a good respect; Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it.”
“I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo.”
“If I lose mine honour, I lose myself; better I were not yours Than yours so branchless.”
“And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit.”
“It yearns me not, if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires: But, if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.”
“Mine honor is my life, both grow in one. Take honor from me, and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try; In that I live, and for that I will die.”
“Let none presume To wear an undeserv'd dignity. O, that estates, degrees and offices Were not deriv'd corruptly, and that clear honour Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!”
“Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off, when I come on? 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 died o' 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. Honour is a mere scutcheon; and so ends my catechism.”