A morbid curiosity today – but what else can Titus Andronicus produce if you try to take it seriously. It would be mildly interesting to compare the rhetoric of revelation across all scenes of parents being fed their children. Off the top of my head I can only think of Procne feeding Itys to Tereus and Atreus feeding Thyestes his own sons but I think you could include Tantalus’ revelation to the gods about Pelops and Cadmus’ calling Agave to her senses about Pentheus’ head (with, in Euripides’ version, the chilling ‘whose head then are you holding in your arms?’ – τίνος πρόσωπον δῆτ᾽ ἐν ἀγκάλαις ἔχεις;). You’d have to make allowances for period of composition and poetry vs. drama but it could prove interesting to see how different authors handle so over-the-top a revelation without losing control of the atmosphere (as I think Shakespeare does below – where I can only picture Titus as giddy).

TITUS ANDRONICUS
Will’t please you eat? will’t please your
highness feed?
TAMORA
Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?
TITUS ANDRONICUS
Not I; ’twas Chiron and Demetrius:
They ravish’d her, and cut away her tongue;
And they, ’twas they, that did her all this wrong.
SATURNINUS
Go fetch them hither to us presently.
TITUS ANDRONICUS
Why, there they are both, baked in that pie;
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed,
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.
‘Tis true, ’tis true; witness my knife’s sharp point.
Kills TAMORA

From Henry VI, part 2 (4.2).  

CADE
Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, and vows
reformation. There shall be in England seven
halfpenny loaves sold for a penny: the three-hooped
pot; shall have ten hoops and I will make it felony
to drink small beer: all the realm shall be in
common; and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to
grass: and when I am king, as king I will be,–
ALL
God save your majesty!
CADE
I thank you, good people: there shall be no money;
all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will
apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree
like brothers and worship me their lord.
DICK
The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.
CADE
Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable
thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should
be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled
o’er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings:
but I say, ’tis the bee’s wax; for I did but seal
once to a thing, and I was never mine own man
since.

From Henry VI, part 2 (3.2) – following Suffolk’s banishment by the King:

SUFFOLK
Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.
QUEEN MARGARET
Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch!
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy?
SUFFOLK
A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them?
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s groan,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear,
Deliver’d strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave:
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
Mine hair be fixed on end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban:
And even now my burthen’d heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks!
Their softest touch as smart as lizards’ sting!
Their music frightful as the serpent’s hiss,
And boding screech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell–
QUEEN MARGARET
Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment’st thyself;
And these dread curses, like the sun ‘gainst glass,
Or like an overcharged gun, recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thyself.
SUFFOLK
You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?
Now, by the ground that I am banish’d from,
Well could I curse away a winter’s night,
Though standing naked on a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.

From Two Gentlemen of Verona (2.1):

VALENTINE
Why, how know you that I am in love?
SPEED
Marry, by these special marks: first, you have
learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms,
like a malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a
robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had
the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had
lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had
buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes
diet; to watch like one that fears robbing; to
speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were
wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you
walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you
fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you
looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you
are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look
on you, I can hardly think you my master.
VALENTINE
Are all these things perceived in me?
SPEED
They are all perceived without ye.
VALENTINE
Without me? they cannot.
SPEED
Without you? nay, that’s certain, for, without you
were so simple, none else would: but you are so
without these follies, that these follies are within
you and shine through you like the water in an
urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a
physician to comment on your malady.

A urinal at this time was a glass vessel used by a doctor for storing and examining a patient’s urine.

From Henry VI, part 2 (3.1)

Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrowed,
For he’s disposed as the hateful raven:
Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
For he’s inclined as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?

From Henry VI, part 1 (3.3)

Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
For things that are not to be remedied.

From The Taming of the Shrew (scene 2 of the introduction):

Seeing too much sadness hath congeal’d your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:
Therefore they thought it good you hear a play
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

From A Winter’s Tale, 1.1

We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience,
may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us.