re my vengeance. To avenge my own
honor I should not need assistance.

ZIBO. The whole nobility are outraged in his person; the whole nobility
must rise and vent their rage in fire and flames.

ASSERATO. The rights of the nation are trodden under foot; the liberty
of the republic has received a deadly blow.

FIESCO. You raise my expectation to the utmost.

ZIBO. He was the twenty-ninth among the electing senators, and had drawn
forth a golden ball to vote for the procurator. Of the eight-and-twenty
votes collected, fourteen were for me, and as many for Lomellino. His
and Doria's were still wanting----

ZENTURIONE. Wanting! I gave my vote for Zibo. Doria--think of the
wound inflicted on my honor--Doria----

ASSERATO (interrupting him). Such a thing was never heard of since the
sea washed the walls of Genoa.

ZENTURIONE (continues, with great heat). Doria drew a sword, which he
had concealed under a scarlet cloak--stuck it through my vote--called to
the assembly----

ZIBO. "Senators, 'tis good-for-nothing--'tis pierced through. Lomellino
is procurator."

ZENTURIONE. "Lomellino is procurator." And threw his sword upon the
table.

ASSERATO. And called out, "'Tis good-for-nothing!" and threw his sword
upon the table.

FIESCO (after a pause). On what are you resolved?

ZENTURIONE. The republic is wounded to its very heart. On what are we
resolved?

FIESCO. Zenturione, rushes may yield to a breath, but the oak requires a
storm. I ask, on what are you resolved?

ZIBO. Methinks the question shall be, on what does Genoa resolve?

FIESCO. Genoa! Genoa! name it not. 'Tis rotten, and crumbles wherever
you touch it. Do you reckon on the nobles? Perhaps because they put on
grave faces, look mysterious when state affairs are mentioned--talk not
of them! Their heroism is stifled among the bales of their Levantine
merchandise. Their souls hover anxiously over their India fleet.

ZENTURIONE. Learn to esteem our nobles more justly. Scarcely was
Doria's haughty action done when hundreds of them rushed into the street
tearing their garments. The senate was dispersed----

FIESCO (sarcastically). Like frighted pigeons when the vulture darts
upon the dovecot.

ZENTURIONE. No! (fiercely)--like powder-barrels when a match falls on
them.

ZIBO. The people are enraged. What may we not expect from the fury of
the wounded boar!

FIESCO (laughing). The blind, unwieldy monster, which at first rattles
its heavy bones, threate