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Play Act 3
Figure of speech
| Question | Answer |
|---|---|
| The day is hot, the Capels are abroad. | epithet |
| Good king of cats | allusion |
| Till thou shalt know the reasonof my love | dramatic irony |
| ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. | hyperbole |
| no, tis not so deep as a well, nor as wide as a church door | simile |
| and you shall find me a grave man. | pun |
| this days black fate on more days doth depend. this but begins the woe other must end. | foreshadowing |
| Towards Phoebus lodging | allusion |
| i have bought the mansion of a love, but not possessed it, and, though i am sold, not yet enjoyed. | metaphor |
| can heaven be so envious | personification |
| tybalt, the best friend i had! o courteous tybalt, honest gentleman | apostrophe |
| beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, wolvish ravening lamb, honorable villian. | oxymorons |
| upon his brow, shame is ashamed to sit. | personification |
| and thou art wedded to calamity. | personification |
| Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, misshapen in the conduct of them both, like powder in a skilless soldiers flask | simile |
| happiness courts thee in her best array | personification |
| with twenty hundred thousand times more joy | hyperbole |
| nights candles are burnt out | personification |
| it is some meteor that the sun exhaled. | personification |
| tis but the pale reflex of Cynthias brow | allusion |
| come deayh and welcome. Juliet wills it so | foreshadowing |
| some say the lark makes sweet division. this doth not so, for she divideith us. | pun |
| for a minute there are many days. | hyperbole |
| methinks i see thee, now thou art so low, as one dead in the bottom of a tomb. | foreshadowing |
| dry sorrow drinks our blood. | personification |
| that same villian, Romeo. | dramatic irony |
| thou counterfeits a bark, a sea, a wind. | metaphor |
| sailing in this salt flood, the winds thy sighs. | metaphor |
Created by:
pedloa16
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