Without eyes where awe
Sits like a murdered thing, or without hands
That flutter at your heart unfalteringly?
I am your brother.
Porzia.
I ... will hold you so.
Osio.
But more than sister are you to my breast.
Porzia.
Ah!
Without eyes where awe
Sits like a murdered thing, or without hands
That flutter at your heart unfalteringly?
I am your brother.
Porzia.
I ... will hold you so.
Osio.
But more than sister are you to my breast.
Porzia.
Ah!