) No, no! not yet--I cannot!
COUNT.
Ay, how is he,
That bright inheritor of your eyes--your boy?
LADY GIOVANNA.
Alas, my Lord Federigo, he hath fallen
Into a sickness, and it troubles me.
COUNT.
Sick! is it so? why, when he came last year
To see me hawking, he was well enough:
And then I taught him all our hawking-phrases.
LADY GIOVANNA.
Oh yes, and once you let him fly your falcon.
COUNT.
How charm'd he was! what wonder?--A gallant boy,
A noble bird, each perfect of the breed.
LADY GIOVANNA (_sinks in chair_).
What do you rate her at?
COUNT.
My bird? a hundred
Gold pieces once were offer'd by the Duke.
I had no heart to part with her for money.
LADY GIOVANNA.
No, not for money.
[COUNT _turns away and sighs_.
Wherefore do you sigh?
COUNT.
I have lost a friend of late.
LADY GIOVANNA.
I could sigh with you
For fear of losing more than friend, a son;
And if he leave me--all the rest of life--
That wither'd wreath were of more worth to me.
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