Shrinking against the sunrise.
Theodora. Shrinking against the sunrise.Was that murder,
To touch his arm?
Ostyn. To touch his arm?No, truly, I would have kill’d him
Anyway.
Theodora.Oh, oh!
Ostyn. Theodora.Oh, oh!You noble woman, cease!
Let not your heart be weaker than your mind.
It is a curse to have a heart that boils
When reason bids be calm.