FIESCO. The tumult comes nearer. Hark! 'Tis not the sound of approbation. Quick!--Unlock the gates--I guess the matter. Doria has been rash. The state balances upon a needle's point. There has assuredly been some disturbance at the senate-house.
MOOR (at the window). What's here! They're coming down the street of Balbi--a crowd of many thousands--the halberds glitter--ah, swords too! -- Halloo! -- Senators! -- They come this way.
FIESCO. Sedition is on foot. Hasten amongst them-- mention my name--persuade them to come hither. (Exit MOORhastily.) What reason, labouring like a careful ant, with difficulty scrapes together, the wind of accident collects in one short moment.
FIESCO; ZENTURIONE, ZIBO, and ASSERATO, rushing in.
ZIBO. Count, impute it to our anger that we enter thus unannounced.
ZENT. I have been mortally affronted, by the Duke's nephew, in the face of the whole senate.
ASSERATO. Doria, has trampled on the golden book of which each noble Genoese is a leaf.
ZENT. Therefore come we hither. The whole nobility are insulted in me--the whole nobility must share my vengeance. To avenge my own honour 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-----
ZENT. Wanting! I gave my vote for Zibo. Doria-- think of the wound inflicted on my honour--Doria-----
ASSERATO (interrupting him). Such a thing was never heard of since the sea washed the walls of Genoa.