I'm not questioning your honor, Lord Janos. I'm denying its existence.
— It's an honor to die at your side.
— It's an honor to have lived at yours.
Because honour's a hard thing to come by nowadays.
Play for the name on the front of the shirt, and they’ll remember the name on the back.
— Ser Rodrik, it grieves me that we meet as foes.
— It grieves me you've less honor than a back alley whore.
— Honor made you leave, honor brought you back.
— My friends brought me back.
— I didn't say it was your honor.
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewaild guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so; I love thee in such sort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
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