Morning

Barnardo
It was about to speak when the cock crew.
Horatio
And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons.Simile I have heard
The cock, that is the trumpet to the mornMetaphor,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day,
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The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,Personification
Check’ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
And fleckled darkness like a drunkard reelsSimile
From forth day’s path and Titan’s fiery wheels.Allusion

The earth that’s nature’s mother is her tomb;
What is her burying grave,
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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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Claudio
Is this the monument of Leonato?
First Lord
It is, my lord.

Now music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.

Claudio, reading an  Epitaph.

Done to death by slanderous tongues
  Was the Hero that here lies.
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
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A glooming peace this morning with it brings,Metaphor & Hyperbaton
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.Personification and Alliteration
Go hence to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon’d, and some punishèd:Alliteration & Ellipsis
For never was a story of more woeEllipsis
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
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