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(3.1). In this metaphor, Feste compares words to a glove in the hands of a wordsmith (or a playwright, like Shakespeare). He suggests that those who are good with words are able to twist and manipulate language for their own ends. Secret Love and Worms.
- Act 3
Act 3 - Twelfth Night Metaphors and Similes | GradeSaver
- Quiz 1
Quiz 1 - Twelfth Night Metaphors and Similes | GradeSaver
- Character List
Character List - Twelfth Night Metaphors and Similes |...
- Act 3
Characters in Twelfth Night frequently use metaphorical language to talk about love and desire. One especially evocative metaphor that appears more than once throughout the play likens the human heart to a book and the act of loving to the act of reading. In Act 1, Scene 4, Orsino compares his soul to a locked book:
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Twelfth Night: Examining the Text. Shakespeare uses figurative language as he speaks with metaphors, similes, and personification. Recognizing when his characters are speaking figuratively helps in understanding the play. A metaphor is the application of a word or phrase to somebody or something that is not meant literally but to make a comparison.
Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good 140 gifts of nature. Maria. He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he
- Metaphor 2, Romeo & Juliet
- Metaphor 3, Henry V
- Metaphor 5, Antony and Cleopatra
- Metaphor 6, Romeo and Juliet
- Metaphor 7, Henry IV Part 1
- Metaphor 8, Macbeth
- Metaphor 9, Macbeth
- Metaphor 10, Troilus and Cressida
- Metaphor 11, Hamlet
- Metaphor 12, Antony and Cleopatra
Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East: Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops
His face is all carbuncles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire; and his lips plows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes blue, and sometimes red; but his nose is executed, and his fire is out.
For his bounty, There was no Winter in’t; an Autumn ’twas That grew the more by reaping: his delights Were dolphin-like; they show’d his back above The element they liv’d in: in his livery Walk’d crowns and crownets
Death, that hath suck’d the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer’d; beauty’s ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death’s pale flag is not advancèd there. Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe That unsubstantial Death is amorous; And that the lean abhorrèd monster keeps Thee here i...
O, then th’ Earth shook to see the heavens on fire, And not in fear of your nativity. Diseasèd Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions; oft the teeming Earth Is with a kind of cholic pinch’d and vex’d By the imprisoning of unruly wind Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving, Shakes the old beldame Earth, and topples down Steepl...
Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of Hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry Hold, hold!
Heaven’s cherubin, hors’d Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.
It is suppos’d, He that meets Hector issues from our choice: And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, Makes merit her election; and doth boil, As ’twere from forth us all, a man distill’d Out of our virtues. – Troilus and Cressida
To be, or not to be; that is the question: Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And, by opposing, end them.
O thou day o’ the world, Chain mine arm’d neck; leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triúmphing!
The opening is mostly straight pentameter, with a spondee, whose stress and position at the end that further emphasizes the command of Orsino. This line begins an extended metaphor comparing music to food (which is another thing people tend to overindulge in during moods like this).
Twelfth Night is sometimes called a "transvestite comedy" for the obvious reason that its central character is a young woman, Viola, who disguises herself as a pageboy, Cesario. In Shakespeare's time, Viola's part, like all the parts in Twelfth Night, would have been played by a man, because women were not allowed to act.
