Metaphor

Macbeth
You know your own degrees; sit down. At first
And last, the hearty welcome.  They sit.
Lords
Thanks to your Majesty.
Macbeth
Ourself will mingle with society
And play the humble host.
Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time
We will require her welcome.

But now I am cabined,
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Queen Gertrude
O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain!
Hamlet
O, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half!
Good night. But go not to my uncle’s bed.

Assume a virtue if you have it not.

Assume a virtue if you have it not.
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Juliet
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day.
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear.
Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
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Silvius
O dear Phoebe,
If ever—as that ever may be near—
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,Synecdoche
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love’s keen arrows make.Metaphor & Anastrophe
Phoebe
But till that time
Come not thou near me.
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Duke, as Friar
What is the news from this good deputy?
Isabella
He hath a garden circummured with brick,
Whose western side is with a vineyard backed;
And to that vineyard is a planchèd gate
That makes his opening with this bigger key.
This other doth command a little door
Which from the vineyard to the garden leads.
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Leonato
O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand!
Death is the fairest cover for her shame
That may be wished for.
Beatrice
How now, cousin Hero?
  Hero stirs.
Friar, to Hero
Have comfort, lady.

But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
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Marcus Brutus
A word, Lucilius,
How he receiv’d you; let me be resolv’d.
Lucilius
With courtesy and with respect enough,
But not with such familiar instances,
Nor with such free and friendly conference,
As he hath us’d of old.

When love begins to sicken and decay
It useth an enforced ceremony.
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First Lord
Sir, his wife some two months since fled
from his house. Her pretense is a pilgrimage to
Saint Jaques le Grand, which holy undertaking
with most austere sanctimony she accomplished.
And, there residing, the tenderness of her nature
became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan
of her last breath,
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O Cassius, you are yokèd with a lambMetaphor
That carries anger as the flint bears fire,
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.Simile
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There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
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