Death

Here the anthem doth commence:
Love and constancy is dead,
Phoenix and the turtle fled
In a mutual flame from hence.

Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclosed, in cinders lie.

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudgeParenthesis break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.Antanaclesis & Synecdoche

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life

From forth the fatal loins of these two foesAlliteration,
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King
But now, my cousin Hamlet and my son—
Hamlet, aside
A little more than kin and less than kind.Paronomasia
King
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
Hamlet
Not so, my lord; I am too much in the sun.
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Buckingham
All good people,
You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.

Go with me like good angels to my end,
And as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice

I have this day received a traitor’s judgment,
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Calphurnia
When beggars die there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Julius Caesar
Cowards die many times before their deaths,
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear,
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Orsino
O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.—
Mark it, Cesario. It is old and plain;
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with
bones
Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love
Like the old age.
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Angelo
Admit no other way to save his life—
As I subscribe not that, nor any other—
But, in the loss of question, that you, his sister,
Finding yourself desired of such a person
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from Metonymythe manacles
Of the binding law,
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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 & IsocolonNow sways it this way,
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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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