O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low?

O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low?
AsyndetonAre all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well!Apostrophe & Pysma
I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank;Anaphora
If I myself, there is no hour so fit
As Caesar's death's hour, nor no instrument
Of half that worth as those your swords,Isocolon made rich
With the most noble blood of all this world.
I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,
Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die;
No place will please me so, no mean of death,Anaphora
As here by Caesar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master spirits of this age.Hendiadys