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'Honour is a mere scrutcheon," the cowardly Falstaff famously declares, ahead of the Battle of Shrewsbury in Henry IV, Part I - "I'll none of it."
In Joanna Murray-Smith's muchrevived 1995 tragicomedy of marital disunion, Honour isn't some abstract concept, she's a wife of 32 years, devoted to her husband, George. She has also loyally served him, metaphorically speaking, as a shield from harm. But she's discarded by him with the same abruptness as Sir John absconding from the fray.
At root, George's hasty erotic embrace of a much younger woman - he's 63 and his squeeze, Claudia, is about 30 - has something of Falstaff 's fear of mortality. Delivering the bad news to his shell-shocked spouse, the rogue says: "We've had wonderful times. But I feel as...