Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips.
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease:
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. (3.1.9)
Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him,
He takes false shadows for true substances. (3.2.6)
I say, my lord, that if I were a man,
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe
For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.
Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft
For his ungrateful country done the like. (4.1.5)