Yes, my lord, for wasn't my lady born with a golden spoon in her
ladyship's mouth, and we haven't never so much as a silver one for the
golden lips of her ladyship.
COUNT.
Have we not half a score of silver spoons?
FILIPPO.
Half o' one, my lord!
COUNT.
How half of one?
FILIPPO.
I trod upon him even now, my lord, in my hurry, and broke him.
COUNT.
And the other nine?
FILIPPO.
Sold! but shall I not mount with your lordship's leave to her
ladyship's castle, in your lordship's and her ladyship's name, and
confer with her ladyship's seneschal, and so descend again with some
of her ladyship's own appurtenances?
COUNT.
Why--no, man. Only see your cloth be clean.
[_Exit_ FILIPPO.
LADY GIOVANNA.
Ay, ay, this faded ribbon was the mode
In Florence ten years back. What's here? a scroll
Pinned to the wreath.
My lord, you have said so much
Of this poor wreath that I was bold enough
To take it down, if but to guess what flowers
Had made it; and I find a written scroll
That seems to run in rhymings. Might I read?
COUNT.
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