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Home » Quotes » Henry VI Pt 3 » She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France

She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France

She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France,
Whose Synecdochetongue more poisons than the adder’s tooth:Metaphor, Diacope & Parenthesis

How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex
To triumph like an Amazonian trull
Upon their woes whom Fortune captivates.Simile

O, tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide,
How couldst thou drain the lifeblood of the child
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman’s face?

But that thy face is vizard-like, unchanging,Simile
Made impudent with use of evil deeds,
I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush.
To tell thee whence thou cam’st, of whom derived,
Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless.Polyptoton
Thy father bears the type of King of Naples,
Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem,
Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult?
It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen,
Unless the adage must be verified
That beggars mounted run their horse to death.
’Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud,
But God He knows thy share thereof is small.
’Tis virtue that doth make them most admired;
The contrary doth make thee wondered at.
’Tis government that makes them seem divine;
The want thereof makes thee abominable.Anaphora & Isocolon

Thou art as opposite to every good
As the Antipodes are unto us
Or as the south to the Septentrion.Simile

O, tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide,
How couldst thou drain the lifeblood of the child
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman’s face?Synecdoches & Paradox

Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible;
Thou, stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.Ellipsis & Asyndeton
Bidd’st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish.
Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will;Hypophora

For raging wind blows up incessant showers,
And when the rage allays, the rain begins.Analogy

These tears are my sweet Rutland’s obsequies,
And every drop cries vengeance for his deathMetaphor & Personification

’Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman!Alliteration & Diacope