Simile

This battle fares like to the morning’s war,
When dying clouds contend with growing light,
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day nor night.

Would I were dead, if God’s good will were so,
For what is in this world but grief and woe?

Simile, Anaphora &
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Friar Lawrence
So smile the heavens upon this holy act
That after-hours with sorrow chide us not.
Romeo
Amen, amen. But come what sorrow can,
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
That one short minute gives me in her sight.

These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die,
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Duke, as Friar
So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
Claudio
The miserable have no other medicine
But only hope.
I have hope to live and am prepared to die.Antithesis

To sue to live, I find I seek to die,
And seeking death,
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Hero
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick.
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit.

What fire is in mine ears?

My talk to thee must be how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice.
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Metellus, kneeling
Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar,Anaphora
Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
An humble heart.Synecdoche
Caesar
I must prevent thee, Cimber.
These couchings and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary menSynecdoche
And turn preordinance and first decree
Into the law of children.
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Claudio
Now, sister, what’s the comfort?
Isabella
Why,
As all comforts are, most good, most good indeed.Epizeuxis
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger;Metaphor
Therefore your best appointment make with speed.
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O, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!Synecdoche
The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s, eye, tongue, sword,Alliteration & Synecdoche
Th’ expectancy and rose of the fair state,Hendiadys
The glass of fashion and the mold of form,Metaphor & Isocolon
Th’ observed of all observers,
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I doubt not of your wisdom.
Let each man render me his bloody hand.
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand;
Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus;
Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius.
Gentlemen all—alas, what shall I say?
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Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
Towards Phoebus’ lodging. Such a wagoner
As Phaëton would whip you to the west
And bring in cloudy night immediately.Alliteration & Allusion
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
That runaways’ eyes may wink, and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalked of and unseen.Personification

So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them.
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King Edward
Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?
Lady Grey
Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
Anadiplosis & EpistropheKing Edward
And would you not do much to do them good?
Lady Grey
To do them good I would sustain some harm.
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