Speeches (Lines) for Lavinia
in "Titus Andronicus"

Total: 15

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# Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context)
Speech text

1

I,1,179

In peace and honour live Lord Titus long;
My noble lord and father, live in fame!
Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears
I render, for my brethren's obsequies;
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy,
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome:
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand,
Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud!

2

I,1,298

Not I, my lord; sith true nobility
Warrants these words in princely courtesy.

3

II,2,716

I say, no;
I have been broad awake two hours and more.

4

II,3,801

Under your patience, gentle empress,
'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning;
And to be doubted that your Moor and you
Are singled forth to try experiments:
Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day!
'Tis pity they should take him for a stag.

5

II,3,815

And, being intercepted in your sport,
Great reason that my noble lord be rated
For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence,
And let her joy her raven-colour'd love;
This valley fits the purpose passing well.

6

II,3,821

Ay, for these slips have made him noted long:
Good king, to be so mightily abused!

7

II,3,856

Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora,
For no name fits thy nature but thy own!

8

II,3,874

O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,—

9

II,3,876

Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.

10

II,3,880

When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam?
O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee;
The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble;
Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny.
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike:
[To CHIRON]
Do thou entreat her show a woman pity.

11

II,3,888

'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark:
Yet have I heard,—O, could I find it now!—
The lion moved with pity did endure
To have his princely paws pared all away:
Some say that ravens foster forlorn children,
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests:
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,
Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!

12

II,3,897

O, let me teach thee! for my father's sake,
That gave thee life, when well he might have
slain thee,
Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.

13

II,3,908

O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen,
And with thine own hands kill me in this place!
For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long;
Poor I was slain when Bassianus died.

14

II,3,913

'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell:
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit,
Where never man's eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.

15

II,3,922

No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature!
The blot and enemy to our general name!
Confusion fall—

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