Figurative Language – The Tempest

…he was the ivy which had hid my princely trunk and sucked my vendure out on ‘t. Metaphor
To cry to th’ sea that roared to us; to sigh to th’ winds, whise pity, sighing back again, did us but loving wrong. Personification
Bow, wow! The watchdogs bark. Bow, wow! Onomatopoeia
Thou shalt be as free as mountain winds; but then exactly do all points of my command. Simile
He receives comfort like cold porridge. Simile
Look, he’s winding up by the watch of his wit; and by it will strike. Hyperbole
Temperance was a delicate wench. Metaphor
It’s foul weather in all of us, good sir, when you are cloudy. Hyperbole
For all the rest, they’ll take suggestion as a cat lap milk. Simile
…sometimes am I all wound up with adders, who with cloven tongues do hiss me into madness. Hyperbole
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about my ears. Personification
He is drowned whom thus w stray to find; and the sea mocks our frustrate search on land. Personification
Methoughts the billows spoke and told me of it; the winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, that deep and dreadful organ pipe, pronounced the name of Prosper. Personification
Their great guilt, like poison given to work after a long time, now ‘gins to bite their spirits. Simile
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart abates the ardor of my liver. Personification
Then I beat my tabor; at which like unpacked colts they pricked their ears, advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses as they smelt the music. Hyperbole
My charms crack not, my spirits obey, and time goes upright with his carriage. Personification
His tears runs down his beard like winter’s drops from eaves of reeds. Simile
The charm dissolves apace; and as the morning steals upon night, melting into darkness, so their rising senses begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle their clearer reason. Personification
Irreparable is the loss, and patience says it is past her cure. Personification
July 24, 2019