Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?
By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world.
You would be,
You look not well, Signior Antonio.
You have too much respect upon the world.
They lose it that do buy it with much care.
In sooth I know not why I am so sad.
It wearies me, you say it wearies you.
Admit no other way to save his life—
As I subscribe not that, nor any other—
Why, how now, Claudio? Whence comes this
From too much liberty,
We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians goodEllipsis. What authority surfeits on would relieve us.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers,Exordium hear me for my cause,
It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you.
Little Helen, farewell. If I can remember
Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the livingParallelism, Alliosis & Ellipsis.