LADY GIOVANNA (_holding wreath toward him_).
There! my lord, you are a poet,
And can you not imagine that the wreath,
Set, as you say, so lightly on her head,
Fell with her motion as she rose, and she,
A girl, a child, then but fifteen, however
Flutter'd or flatter'd by your notice of her,
Was yet too bashful to return for it?
COUNT.
Was it so indeed? was it so? was it so?
[_Leans forward to take wreath, and touches_ LADY
GIOVANNA'S _hand, which she withdraws hastily;
he places wreath on corner of chair_.
LADY GIOVANNA (_with dignity_).
I did not say, my lord, that it was so;
I said you might imagine it was so.
_Enter_ FILIPPO _with bowl of salad, which he places on table_.
FILIPPO.
Here's a fine salad for my lady, for tho' we have been a soldier, and
ridden by his lordship's side, and seen the red of the battle-field,
yet are we now drill-sergeant to his lordship's lettuces, and profess
to be great in green things and in garden-stuff.
LADY GIOVANNA.
I thank thee, good Filippo. [_Exit_ FILIPPO.
_Enter_ ELISABETTA _with bird on a dish which she places on
table_.
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