Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs!
When thy poor heart beats with out­ra­geous beat­ing,
Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still.
Wound it with sigh­ing, kill it with groans;
Or get some lit­tle knife between thy teeth,
And just against thy heart make thou a hole;
That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall
May run into that sink, and soak­ing in
Drown the lament­ing fool in sea-salt tears.

—Titus Andronicus