Not for that neither. Here’s the pang that pinches

Anne
Not for that neither.Anapodoton Here’s the pang that pinches:
His Highness having lived so long with herAlliteration, and she
So good a lady that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonor of her—Parenthesesby my life,
She never knew harm-doing!—O, now, after
So many courses of the Anastrophesun enthroned,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp, Parentheses & Alliosisthe which
To leave a thousandfold more bitter than
’Tis sweet at first t’ acquire—after this process,
To give her the avaunt!Synecdoche It is a pity
Would move a monster.Adynaton
Old Lady
Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.Metonymy & Metaphor

I swear, ’tis better to be lowly born
And range with humble livers in content
Than to be perked up in a glist’ring grief
And wear a golden sorrow.

Anne
O, God’s will! EllipsisMuch better
She ne’er had known pompAnapodoton; though ’t be temporal,
PersonificationYet if that quarrel, Fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, ’tis a sufferance panging
SimileAs soul and body’s severing.Apposition
Old Lady
Alas, poor lady,
She’s a stranger now again!
Anne
So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, ’tis better to be lowly born
And range with humble livers in content
Alliteration, Meetaphor & OxymoronsThan to be perked up in a glist’ring grief
And wear a golden sorrow.Alliosis
Old Lady
Our content
Is our best having.Hyperbaton
Anne
By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
Old Lady
Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for ’t; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.Metaphor
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman’s heart,Metonymy which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts,
Saving your mincing, the capacity
MetaphorOf your soft cheveril conscience would receive
If you might please to stretch it.Apposition
Anne
Nay, good troth.
Old Lady
AnapodotonYes, troth, and troth. AporiaYou would not be a queen?Anapodoton and Antanaclasis
Anne
No, not for all the riches under heaven.Anapodoton, Adynaton & Ellipsis
Old Lady
’Tis strange. A threepence bowed would hire me,
Old as I am,Anthimeria to queen it.Apposition But I pray you,
What think you of a duchess? SynecdocheHave you limbs
To bear that load of title?Pysma
Anne
No, in truth.Anapodoton
Old Lady
Then you are weakly made.Anastrophe Pluck off a little.
I would not be a young count in your way
For more than blushing comes to.Hyperbaton If your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden,Synecdoche ’tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.
Anne
How you do talk!
I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.
Old Lady
In faith, for little England
You’d venture an emballing.Metonymy I myself
Would for Carnarvanshire, although there longed
No more to th’ crown but that.