KLINGON: By my family's honour, hand me that bloodwine!
FALSTAFF : What is honour? A word. What is in that word honour? What is that honour? Air, a trim reckoning.
KLINGON: You better be silent and give me my bloodine, peta'Q!
FALSTAFF: Honour, who hath it? He that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. 'Tis 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 ...
stage/screen gets covers in blood