Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious-dear than life.
Let none presume to wear an undeserved dignity. O that estates, degrees, and offices, were not derived corruptly, and that clear honor were purchased by the merit of the wearer.
For he’s honourable, and doubling that, most holy.
Thou art a fellow of good respect; Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it.
The painting is almost the natural man: For since dishonour traffics with man’s nature, he is but outside; these pencill’d figures are even such as they give out.
See that you come not to woo honour, but to wed it.
Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.
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 will I die.
In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.
In a false quarrel there is no true valor.
If we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country loss; and if to live. The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
I see my reputation is at stake; my fame is shrewdly gored.
