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xii. written
[ Lucrezia writes in curled letters, more like pictures than text, a little poetry or is it a riddle? ]
πόλυ πάκτιδος ἀδυμελεστέρα χρύσω χρυσοτέρα
[ Meanwhile she is at the laundry room, seated on the floor with her light green gown spread about her. She has both hands on one machine, watching the colors spin through the glass with amazement on her face. Yellows, blues, greens and purples! ]
[ trans.; than the lyre, far sweeter in tone than gold, more golden. ]
πόλυ πάκτιδος ἀδυμελεστέρα χρύσω χρυσοτέρα
[ Meanwhile she is at the laundry room, seated on the floor with her light green gown spread about her. She has both hands on one machine, watching the colors spin through the glass with amazement on her face. Yellows, blues, greens and purples! ]
[ trans.; than the lyre, far sweeter in tone than gold, more golden. ]

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Not impatience –– curiosity.
Where are you, piccina? I should like to talk to you in person.
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In the room with the white boxes, where one washes dresses?
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Do I get a warning?
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[But he shows, a few minutes later, dressed in his usual leather pants, white shirt and a coloured doublet. He sits down next to her, smiling almost half-hearted.]
Tell me Cesare's news, then.
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As you said, my marriage has been annulled, in his time.
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I told you it would be.
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And he will be no woman's husband after the Conclave declared him impotent. [ And Cesare rips out his heart. ]
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Your father is certainly capable, to humiliate a family like the Sforza so deftly.
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I have not asked him what it cost us to free me from such a marriage.
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There are no friends in this Italy of ours.
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Did you come here only to see my face when I deliver you good news?
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I was hoping we might speak about... an important matter.
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A matter concerning...?
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Addressed to whom?
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that is the saddest thought process ever :( lucreziaaaaa
it's not completely unfounded ):
that's what makes it the saddest :(
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