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!
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2 |
I,1,298 |
Not I, my lord; sith true nobility
Warrants these words in princely courtesy.
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3 |
II,2,716 |
I say, no;
I have been broad awake two hours and more.
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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.
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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.
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6 |
II,3,821 |
Ay, for these slips have made him noted long:
Good king, to be so mightily abused!
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7 |
II,3,856 |
Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora,
For no name fits thy nature but thy own!
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8 |
II,3,874 |
O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,—
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9 |
II,3,876 |
Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.
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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.
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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!
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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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