'So prays upon his aching knee
Thy humble vassal, once the fear
Of Christendom, but now—woe's me!—
One whose wild prayers Love will not hear,
Who treads the earth and has no home—
Giulio Pandolfo, Duke of Rome.'
Hilda.
Gioconda, what a lover!
Gioconda.
So I think— His brain a dictionary, his blood mere ink.
Hilda.
Oh, but I mean how fine a lover! Would
That mine could pen a letter half so good!
Gioconda.
How does he write?
Hilda.