COUNT. It will be hard, I fear, To find one shock upon the field when all The harvest has been carried. LADY GIOVANNA. But my boy-- (_Aside_.) 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. [_Looking at wreath on wall_. COUNT. That wither'd wreath is of more worth to me Than all the blossom, all the leaf of this New-wakening year. [_Goes and takes down wreath_. LADY GIOVANNA. And yet I never saw The land so rich in blossom as this year. COUNT (_holding wreath toward her_). Was not the year when this was gather'd richer? LADY GIOVANNA. How long ago was that? COUNT. Alas, ten summers! A lady that was beautiful as day Sat by me at a rustic festival With other beauties on a mountain meadow, And she was the most beautiful of all; Then but fifteen, and still as beautiful. The mountain flowers grew thickly round about. I made a wreath with some of these; I ask'd A ribbon from her hair to bind it with; I whisper'd, Let me crown you Queen of Beauty, And softly placed the chaplet on her head. A colour, which has colour'd all my life, Flush'd in her face; then I was call'd away; And presently all rose, and so departed. Ah! she had thrown my chaplet on the grass, And there I found it. [_Lets his hands fall, holding wreath despondingly_. LADY GIOVANNA (_after pause_). How long since do you say? COUNT. That was the very year before you married. LADY GIOVANNA. When I was married you were at the wars. COUNT. Had she not thrown my chaplet on the grass, It may be I had never seen the wars. [_Replaces wreath whence he had taken it_. LADY GIOVANNA. Ah, but, my lord, there ran a rumour then That you were kill'd in battle. I can tell you True tears that year were shed for you in Florence. COUNT. It might have been as well for me. Unhappily I was but wounded by the enemy there And then imprison'd.