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Why, there’s no remedy

Iago
Why, there's no remedy. ‘Tis the curse of service.
Preferment goes by letter and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each second
Stood heir to th' first. Now, sir, be judge yourself
Whether I in any just term am affined
To love the Moor.
Roderigo
I would not follow him, then.

For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In complement extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeveMetonymy
For daws to peck atMetaphor. I am not what I am.Epanalepsis

Iago
O, sir, content you.
I follow him to serve my turn upon him.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly followed.Anadiplosis
You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knaveAlliteration
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For naught but provender, and when he's old, cashiered.
Whip me such honest knaves!Simile
Others there are
Who, trimmed in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,Metonymy
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them; and when they have lined their coats,Metaphor
Do themselves homage. These fellows have some soul,
And such a one do I profess myself.Hyperbaton For, sir,
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor I would not be Iago.
In following him, I follow but myself.
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so for my peculiar end.
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In complement extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeveMetonymy
For daws to peck atMetaphor. I am not what I am.Epanalepsis