O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Hark, how hard he fetches breath.

Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse.

What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.

Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Hal Ashby is one of my favorite filmmakers.