Rhetorical Analysis, Help !!!!?
Now my co- mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free form peril that the envious court?
Here feel we not the penalty of Adam,
The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter wind,
Which when it bites and blows upon my body
Even ‘til I shrink with cold, I smile and say
“This is no flattery; these are counselors
That feelingly persuade mw what I am.”
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in its head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, book in running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
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