# Result number

Work The work is either a play, poem, or sonnet. The sonnets are treated as single work with 154 parts.

Character Indicates who said the line. If it's a play or sonnet, the character name is "Poet."

Line Shows where the line falls within the work.

The numbering is not keyed to any copyrighted numbering system found in a volume of collected works (Arden, Oxford, etc.) The numbering starts at the beginning of the work, and does not restart for each scene.

Text The line's full text, with keywords highlighted within it, unless highlighting has been disabled by the user.

1

Titus Andronicus
[III, 1]

Titus Andronicus

1246

If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them.
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed;
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes.
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips.
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius,
And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain,
Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks
How they are stain'd, as meadows, yet not dry,
With miry slime left on them by a flood?
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness,
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears?
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine?
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows
Pass the remainder of our hateful days?
What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues,
Plot some deuce of further misery,
To make us wonder'd at in time to come.

2

Titus Andronicus
[IV, 1]

Young Lucius

1537

Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia
Follows me every where, I know not why:
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes.
Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.

3

Titus Andronicus
[IV, 1]

Young Lucius

1552

My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess,
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her:
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft,
Extremity of griefs would make men mad;
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy
Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear;
Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt
Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did,
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth:
Which made me down to throw my books, and fly—
Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt:
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go,
I will most willingly attend your ladyship.

4

Titus Andronicus
[IV, 1]

Young Lucius

1656

And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.

5

Titus Andronicus
[IV, 3]

Marcus Andronicus

1906

O Publius, is not this a heavy case,
To see thy noble uncle thus distract?

6

Titus Andronicus
[IV, 3]

Clown

1975

From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there God
forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my
young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the
tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl
betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men.

7

Titus Andronicus
[V, 1]

Lucius

2300

AEmilius, let the emperor give his pledges
Unto my father and my uncle Marcus,
And we will come. March away.

8

Titus Andronicus
[V, 3]

Lucius

2526

Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's mind
That I repair to Rome, I am content.

9

Titus Andronicus
[V, 3]

Lucius

2529

Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor,
This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil;
Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him
Till he be brought unto the empress' face,
For testimony of her foul proceedings:
And see the ambush of our friends be strong;
I fear the emperor means no good to us.

10

Titus Andronicus
[V, 3]

Lucius

2539

Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd slave!
Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in.
[Exeunt Goths, with AARON. Flourish within]
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.
[Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with AEMILIUS,]
Tribunes, Senators, and others]

11

Titus Andronicus
[V, 3]

Lucius

2690

Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so,
To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe!
But, gentle people, give me aim awhile,
For nature puts me to a heavy task:
Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near,
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk.
O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips,
[Kissing TITUS]
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face,
The last true duties of thy noble son!