Pysma

Flavius
Hence! Home, you idle creatures, get you home!
Is this a holiday? What, know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a laboring day without the sign
Of your profession?—Speak, what trade art thou?
Carpenter
Why, sir, a carpenter.

Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
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Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.Adynaton & Simile

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Men at some time are masters of their fates;
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And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?
Poor man, I know he would not be a wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but sheep;
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
Begin it with weak straws.Metaphors What trash is Rome?
What rubbish and what offal?
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Shylock
Signior Antonio, many a time and oftHendiadys
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances.
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug
(For suff’rance is the badge of all our tribe).
You call me misbeliever, cutthroat dog,
And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine,
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Ghost
Adieu, adieu, adieu.Epizeuxis Remember me.
 He exits.
Hamlet
O all you host of heaven! O Earth!Anapodotons & Apostrophes What else?
And shall I couple hell?Pysma O fie! Hold, hold, my heart,
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
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Duke Senior
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of Alliterationpainted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?Pysma
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,
The seasons’ difference,
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Cassius
And let us swear our resolution.
Marcus Brutus
No, not an oath!Anapodoton If not the face of men,
The sufferance of our souls, the time’s abuseIsocolon—
If these be motives weakAnastrophe, break off betimes,
And every man hence to his idle bed;
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Brutus
Portia! What mean you? Wherefore rise you now?Hyperbaton & Pysma
It is not for your health thus to commit
Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.
Portia
Nor for yours neither.Anapodoton You’ve ungently, Brutus,
Stole from my bed. And yesternight at supper
You suddenly arose and walked about,
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Brutus
Kneel not, gentle Portia.
Portia
I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.Antanaclesis
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it excepted I should know no secrets
That appertain to you? Am I yourself
But, as it were, in sort or limitation,
To keep with you at meals,
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Isabella
At what hour tomorrow
Shall I attend your Lordship?
Angelo
At any time ‘fore noon.
Isabella
Save your honor.
 She exits, with Lucio and Provost.

O cunning enemy that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook.
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