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Shakespeare Quotes from Titus Andronicus
Black, forsooth, coal black as jet. Coal black is better than another hue,— filed under Black
In that it scorns to bear another hue. All the water in the ocean Can never turn a swan's black legs to white,— filed under Black
Come, and take choice of all my library And so beguile thy sorrow.— filed under Books, Consolation Of
That she'll demand. She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd;— filed under Courtship
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east— filed under Day
The stirring passage of the day. As when the golden sun salutes the morn, And having gilt the ocean with his beams, Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach,— filed under Day
But let desert in pure election shine.— filed under Desert
For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will, in his brinish bowels, swallow him.— filed under Despair
And hang a pearl on every cowslip's ear. As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers.— filed under Dew
Let us sit, And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once.— filed under Echo
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee. But we worldly men Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes.— filed under Fond
Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top; Safe out of fortune's shot: and sits aloft, Secure of thunder's crack, or lightning's flash; Advanc'd above pale Envy's threat'ning reach.— filed under Exaltation
He lives in fame, that died in virtue's cause.— filed under Fame
Let it be so, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their souls. In peace and honour rest you here, my sons Rome's readiest champions, repose you here,— filed under Funeral Rites
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep.— filed under Grave
These tidings nip me: and I hang the head, As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms.— filed under Rief
Now my soul's palace is become a prison: Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest; For never henceforth shall I joy again. H. VI. PT. III. ii. 1. How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?— filed under Rief
What! canst thou say all this, and never blush?— filed under Impudence
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? Draw near them then in being merciful: Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.— filed under Mercy
Here none but soldiers, and Rome's servitors, Repose in fame.— filed under Mighty Dead
Thou wilt not trust the air with secrets.— filed under Secrecy
To hear, and see, her plaints. For heaven shall hear our prayers; Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, And stain the sun with fog, as sometimes clouds, When they do hug him in their melting bosoms.— filed under Sigiis
१ I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee Sad stories, chanced in the times of old.— filed under Tale
Floods of tears will drown my oratory— filed under Tale
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.— filed under Tears
For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massacres, Acts of black night, abominable deeds, Complots of mischief, treason; villanies Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd.— filed under Tragedian
Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.— filed under Wit, Reflections On The Scull Of A
O, what a sympathy of woe is this! As far from help as limbo is from bliss!— filed under Woe