AmyStrange.org and the UNeXpLaiNed ©Copyrighted by Dave Ayotte & Caty Bergman
OUR BLOG: 2012 FEB
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2012-FEB-12 [SUN] 11:00 AM
It can be (and most probably already has been by now) successfully argued, that the Shakespearean quote "To be or not to be... " is the most quoted (if not the most recognized) Shakespearean quotation of all time.
The actual quote is just the beginning of what we think is one of the greatest soliloquies ever written.
We found, including this work, that thare are many phrases that we (either all use or at least know what they mean and) thought were "modern" sayings, but really are from Shakespeare:
FROM:
http://www.literary-quotations.com/s/william_shakespeare.html
"The play's the thing, Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the
king."
--Hamlet, Act II, scene ii
"I wish you all joy of the worm."
--Clown, Act V, scene ii
"Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
"For loan oft loses both itself and friend."
--Polonius, Act I, scene iii
"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark."
--Marcellus, Act I, scene iv
AND MORE HERE:
http://www.literary-quotations.com/s/william_shakespeare.html
Dave (not me, I was bogged down in real life) watched the movie
"Anonymous"
and that's where this particular blog blot came from which I
originally thought, WTF?, but then I mellowed, but it
didn't matter, I still thought WTF? Ha ha
But still, the research was fun.
ANYWAY, here is the "To be... " soliloquy in its
entirety:
FROM: "HAMLET"
HAMLET: To be, or not to be--that is the question:
by William Shakespeare
SOURCE: http://www.monologuearchive.com/s/shakespeare_001.html
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprise of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia! -- Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.
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LAST UPDATED: March 1, 2012
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