Forgive and Forget

~ duane ~ 7 Comments
In my search for not-by-shakespeares today I stumbled across something I thought was interesting.  We all know that many of today’s popular cliches came from Shakespeare.  Turns out that “forgive and forget” is one of them.  Why’s that interesting?  Because Mr. Shakespeare seems to have been quite fond of the expression, and used it at least four times:

King Richard II  (Act I, Scene 1)
  1. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by
    me;
  2. Let’s purge this choler without
    letting blood:
  3. This we prescribe,
    though no physician;
  4. Deep malice makes
    too deep incision;
  5. Forget,
    forgive; conclude and be agreed;
  6. Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.
  7. Good uncle, let this end where it begun;
  8. We’ll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.

King Lear (act IV, Scene 7)
  1. You must bear with me:
  2. Pray you now, forget and forgive: I
    am old and foolish.

Cleomenes  (The Winter’s Tale, Act 5 Scene 1)
  1. Sir, you have done enough, and have perform’d
  2. A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make,
  3. Which you have not redeem’d; indeed, paid down
  4. More penitence than done trespass: at the last,
  5. Do as the heavens have done, forget
    your evil;
  6. With them forgive
    yourself.

Queen Margaret (Henry VI Part 3, Act III Scene 3)
  1. Warwick, these words have turn’d my hate to love;
  2. And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
  3. And
    joy that thou becomest King Henry’s friend.

Given how freely he uses the expression he likely didn’t invent it, but was rather just repeating an expression that was in common usage at the time.  From the Bible, maybe?  Many people think so (it’s certainly a logical Christian sentiment), but no one’s able to point to a specific verse that could be the source.

Let The Punishment Fit The Crime?

~ duane ~ 2 Comments
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/10571122

We’ve been talking about it, so I’m not going to rehash the details.  Crazy dude (allegedly, gah, I hate that I have to say allegedly) steals First Folio, mutilates it, then has the cajones to walk back into Folger and say “Hey, I found this, is it worth anything?” 

His trial’s been going on for awhile, and finally he’s convicted … not of stealing it, or mutilating it, but merely of “handling stolen goods.”  WTF?  Is that really how the system works over there, the only evidence you had to work with was the fact that the bloody thing was in his hands, so you get to charge him with handling it?  He didn’t even offer any words in his own defense, and now I think I understand why.  He didn’t need to.  Geez.

He hasn’t been sentenced yet, so what’s your guess at what he gets?  I recommend 375 years.  That’s how many years of stolen history he was handling.

Words are easy like the wind, faithful friends are hard to find.

~ duane ~ 1 Comment

Status: Unsolved.  Maybe Shakespeare?

This is a tricky one, as it actually does come from The Passionate Pilgrim, a known Shakespeare source (albeit a less commonly cited one).  So at first glance you could easily make the case that this is a Shakespeare quote.

Here’s the problem — that collection is actually a bunch of smaller writings from a bunch of authors, and only a few of them have been identified as Shakespeare:

First published by William Jaggard in 1599, this collection of poems, in its entirety, is commonly attributed to Shakespeare. However, a number of the poems were written by others including Richard Barnfield, Bartholemew Griffin, Christopher Marlowe, and Sir Walter Raleigh. Shakespeare has been identified as the author of five poems: numbers I, II, III, V, and XVII.

The quote in question comes from poem #21.  Strangely enough, when googling for details on this particular poem I actually landed on myself (via ShakespeareGeek.com).

Everyone I meet is in some way my superior. In that I learn from him.

~ duane ~ 5 Comments

Proper attribution: Ralph Waldo Emerson
Alternate versions: Every man I meet, rather than “everyone”.
Status: Misquoted either way.

This does sound like it could be hiding in the works of Shakespeare somewhere. It’s a good thought for a character to have, very humble. However, it’s just not Shakespeare.


Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote this in his letters, in the late 1800’s:

Shall I tell you the secret of the true scholar?
It is this : Every man I meet is my master
in some point, and in that I learn of him.

It’s funny how the meaning of this quote changes depending on the subtlety of how you say it. The way Emerson wrote it, the “I learn from him” is like an added benefit. Every man is my master in some point, period, one thought, and because that it is true, I have the benefit that I can learn something. But if you were to change it and say that “every man is my master in that I learn something from him” that flips it, now you’re saying that the learning came first, and it is because of the learning that this person is your superior. That’s quite different. You need to keep it as two separate thoughts.

A bad book is just as much of a labour to write as a good one; it comes as sincerely from the author’s soul.

~ duane ~ Leave a comment

Proper attribution: Aldous Huxley

Saw this one go by as a bit of writer’s advice, and was honestly surprised that someone would attach the word Shakespeare to it. Really? Do people think that Shakespeare was in the habit of dishing out advice to other writers? Where exactly would he have published such a line?

The actual quote comes from Aldous Huxley in his Point Counterpoint, written in 1928.