Tricolon: List of Three

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. The mind loves threes.
Beginning, middle, end.
Birth, life, death.
Knock, knock, knock.

GEORGE:
I knew you’d do that—three examples to explain the “rule of three.”
   
SHAKESPEARE:
Would you have me offer four? That way lies chaos.

GEORGE:
So why does three work so well? What’s the magic?

SHAKESPEARE:
Because one is a point.
Two is a choice.
Three is a pattern.

GEORGE:
That is… annoyingly perfect.

SHAKESPEARE:
I have practiced.

GEORGE:
Okay—if someone’s never heard the term tricolon, they’ve still heard the sound of it. It shows up in speeches, prayers, comedy, slogans… and in your plays.

Transcript

Welcome back to Conversations with Shakespeare—where I ask Master Shakespeare about rhetorical devices, and he answers as though he invented language itself… which, frankly, some days he practically did.

Tonight’s device is tricolon - basically a List of three

GEORGE:
Master Shakespeare, I’m going to say the word and hope no one throws tomatoes at me: TRI-co-lon.

SHAKESPEARE (pleased):
A neat little word. Three beats in two syllables—already practicing what it preaches.

GEORGE:
All right, for listeners: a tricolon is a set of three parallel words, phrases, or clauses—three of the same “shape”—used for rhythm, emphasis, and memorability.
In plain English: a well-made list of three.

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. The mind loves threes.
Beginning, middle, end.
Birth, life, death.
Knock, knock, knock.

GEORGE:
I knew you’d do that—three examples to explain the “rule of three.”
   
SHAKESPEARE:
Would you have me offer four? That way lies chaos.

GEORGE:
So why does three work so well? What’s the magic?

SHAKESPEARE:
Because one is a point.
Two is a choice.
Three is a pattern.

GEORGE:
That is… annoyingly perfect.

SHAKESPEARE:
I have practiced.

GEORGE:
Okay—if someone’s never heard the term tricolon, they’ve still heard the sound of it. It shows up in speeches, prayers, comedy, slogans… and in your plays.

SHAKESPEARE:
Most especially in speeches—where a speaker must seize the ear, then the mind, then the heart.

GEORGE:
All right, show me Shakespeare’s tricolon in the wild. Give me something famous.

SHAKESPEARE:
Then we go to Rome—where politics is theater and theater is politics.
Julius Caesar.

GEORGE:
Mark Antony.

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. He begins his funeral speech with a tricolon so clean it could cut glass:

“Friends, Romans, countrymen—lend me your ears.”

GEORGE (smiling):
There it is. Three nouns. Same grammatical shape. And it feels like the crowd is being gathered into one body.

SHAKESPEARE:
Just so. The tricolon does three labors at once:
It includes the audience—“Friends.”
It names them as citizens—“Romans.”
It widens the embrace—“countrymen.”

He climbs a little ladder in three rungs, and the crowd climbs with him.

GEORGE:
So the order matters: it starts personal, then civic, then national.

SHAKESPEARE:
A wise ear you have, sir.

GEORGE:
And “lend me your ears” is practically a stage direction. He’s taking possession of attention.

SHAKESPEARE:
Attention is the first currency of persuasion.

GEORGE:
Now, I can hear a listener saying: “Isn’t that just a list of three?”
What makes it tricolon rather than just… counting?

SHAKESPEARE:
Ah—here lies the craft.
A tricolon is not merely three things. It is three things in parallel—balanced in rhythm or structure.
If the shapes match, the ear relaxes and enjoys.
If the shapes mismatch, the ear stumbles.

GEORGE:
So it’s a list of three, but designed.

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. Designed like a staircase, not stacked like firewood.

GEORGE:
Now I’ve heard of something called “tricolon crescendo”—where the three parts grow in intensity.

SHAKESPEARE:
Indeed. The third line often lands hardest—because by then the audience has learned the pattern and is waiting for the final strike.

GEORGE:
So the audience is subconsciously thinking, “Okay, I’ve heard one… I’ve heard two… now give me three.”

SHAKESPEARE:
Exactly. The third is the door closing.

GEORGE:
Give me an example of a tricolon crescendo—Shakespearean style.

SHAKESPEARE:
Let us make one together, rather than drown them in quotes.
Suppose a character is pleading for mercy. He might say:

“I ask your patience, I ask your mercy, I ask your love.”

The phrases match—I ask your…
And the feeling rises—patience to mercy to love.

GEORGE:
That’s great. And I can hear how an actor would ride it.

SHAKESPEARE:
Yes—tricolon gives the actor a rhythm to inhabit.
It tells the breath when to push, when to pause, when to strike.

GEORGE:
All right, workshop time. If I want to use tricolon in a podcast—what are the rules?

SHAKESPEARE:
Three rules—naturally.

GEORGE:
Of course.

SHAKESPEARE:
Rule one: Keep the three parts parallel—same grammatical shape.
Rule two: Make the three parts distinct—each adds something new.
Rule three: Let the third part be the landing—strongest word, clearest image, or biggest truth.

GEORGE:
Okay, I’m going to try one for an intro to my show. You judge it.

SHAKESPEARE:
With pleasure—and mild cruelty.

GEORGE:
“On this show, we chase stories, we chase voices, we chase the spark that makes art last.”

SHAKESPEARE:
Very near! You have parallel structure—we chase… three times.
But you can sharpen the last phrase so it hits like a bell.

Try:
“We chase stories. We chase voices. We chase the spark.”
Shorter. Cleaner. Stronger.

GEORGE:
Oh, I see—sometimes the tricolon works best when it’s not over-explained.

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. The device is a hammer; do not wrap it in velvet.

GEORGE:
Let me try another—more emotional:
“I’ve known praise, I’ve known blame, I’ve known the silence in between.”

SHAKESPEARE:
That is excellent.
Parallel—I’ve known…
Distinct—praise, blame, silence.
And the third surprises with an image. Well done.

GEORGE:
Thank you, Master Shakespeare. I’ll frame that compliment.

SHAKESPEARE:
Frame it, but do not worship it.

GEORGE:
Now, can tricolon be funny?

SHAKESPEARE:
Oh, exceedingly. Comedy loves threes because the third can twist.
One sets the pattern.
Two confirms it.
Three breaks it.

GEORGE:
So you can use tricolon to deliver a punchline.

SHAKESPEARE:
Indeed. The audience trusts the pattern—then you turn it sideways.

GEORGE:
Tricolon is three parallel phrases that create rhythm and force. It’s memorable because the mind hears a pattern and wants its completion. And when the third beat lands, it feels inevitable.

SHAKESPEARE:
Well said. Three beats. One lesson.

GEORGE:
And I can’t resist ending with one of our own—
Friends, listeners, fellow night-owls: thank you for lending me your ears.

SHAKESPEARE:
A fine theft.

Until our next episode: keep your language alive—
because the old words are still turning in the new light.

SHAKESPEARE:
And remember: one is a point, two is a choice, three is a spell.

GEORGE (laughs):
Good night, Master Shakespeare.