O my sick boy! My daily fading Florio, it is thou Hath set me this hard task, for when I say What can I do—what can I get for thee? He answers, “Get the Count to give me his falcon, And that will make me well.” Yet if I ask, He loves me, and he knows I know he loves me! Will he not pray me to return his love— To marry him?—(_pause_)—I can never marry him. His grandsire struck my grandsire in a brawl At Florence, and my grandsire stabb’d him there. The feud between our houses is the bar I cannot cross; I dare not brave my brother, Break with my kin. My brother hates him, scorns The noblest-natured man alive, and I— Who have that reverence for him that I scarce Dare beg him to receive his diamonds back— How can I, dare I, ask him for his falcon? [_Puts diamonds in her casket._ _Re-enter COUNT and FILIPPO. COUNT turns to FILIPPO._ COUNT. Do what I said; I cannot do it myself. FILIPPO. Why then, my lord, we are pauper’d out and out. COUNT. Do what I said! [_Advances and bows low._ Welcome to this poor cottage, my dear lady. LADY GIOVANNA. And welcome turns a cottage to a palace. COUNT. ’Tis long since we have met! LADY GIOVANNA. To make amends I come this day to break my fast with you. COUNT. I am much honour’d—yes— [_Turns to FILIPPO._ Do what I told thee. Must I do it myself? FILIPPO. I will, I will. (_Sighs._) Poor fellow! [_Exit._ COUNT. Lady, you bring your light into my cottage Who never deign’d to shine into my palace. My palace wanting you was but a cottage; My cottage, while you grace it, is a palace. LADY GIOVANNA. In cottage or in palace, being still Beyond your fortunes, you are still the king Of courtesy and liberality. COUNT. I trust I still maintain my courtesy; My liberality perforce is dead Thro’ lack of means of giving. LADY GIOVANNA. Yet I come To ask a gift. [_Moves toward him a little._ 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.