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[They shoot, Greedo dies. [To innkeeper:] Pray, goodly Sir, forgive me for the mess. [Aside:] And whether I shot first, I’ll ne’er confess!
—But O, what now? What light through yonder flashing sensor breaks?
Aye, say thou fool? Then fool, good Sir, am I. But when thou sayest fool remember well That fools do walk in foolish company. So if I am a fool, perhaps ’tis true That other fools around me may be found. For who is he who hath more foolish been— The fool or other fool who follows him?
—Ha, thou josh with me. For my imagination hath few bounds.
All merry ’tis in the detention block!
Thou truly art in jest. Art thou not small Of stature, if thou art a stormtrooper? Does Empire shrink for want of taller troops? The Empire’s evil ways, I’ll grant, are grand, But must its soldiers want for fear of height?
thou sweetheart of ingratitude!
I either shall destroy her, or, perhaps, I may in time begin to like the wench!
A plague on both our circuit boards, I say!
Alas, poor stormtrooper, I knew ye not, Yet have I ta’en both uniform and life From thee. What manner of a man wert thou? A man of inf’nite jest or cruelty?
If we may female-giv’n advice avoid, We should be well upon our merry way.
Hast thou come here in that ungainly heap? Thou art, perhaps, then braver than I thought.
Thou art a Master, Darth, I know ’tis true, But only evil hast thou Master’d yet.
Friends, rebels, starfighters, lend me your ears. Wish not we had a single fighter more, If we are mark’d to die, we are enough To make our planets proud. But should we win, We fewer rebels share the greater fame.
