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Updated: June 4, 2025
Next I will shave my head, that they may play Merry Andrew to my Clown. How did the manufacturers receive my presents? Why, Mr. Fool, they looked like poor knaves FIESCO. Fool? Fellow, art thou mad? MOOR. Pardon! I had a mind for a few more sequins. Well. "Like poor knaves." MOOR. Who receive pardon at the very block. They are yours both soul and body. FIESCO. I'm glad of it.
A VOICE. The guard of the duke's. Oh, my friends! Be not alarmed! I am here quick, remove these arms be men. I entreat you this visit makes me hope that Andreas still doubts our plot. Retire into the palace: recall your spirits. Soldiers, throw open the gate! Three GERMAN SOLDIERS bringing the MOOR, bound. FIESCO. Who calls me? GERMANS. Bring us to the count!
MOOR. She answered, that she still lamented the fate of the poor bereaved widow that she was willing to give her satisfaction, and meant to forbid your grace's attentions. Which of themselves may possibly cease sometime before the day of judgment. Is that all thy business, Hassan? My lord, the affairs of the ladies are next to those of state. FIESCO. Without a doubt, and these especially.
Is he who threatens the overthrow of liberty or he who has it in his power the greater tyrant? VERRINA. The first I hate, I fear the latter. Let Andreas Doria fall! Andreas? The old Andreas! who perhaps to-morrow may pay the debt of nature SACCO. Andreas? That mild old man! FIESCO. Formidable is that old man's mildness, O my friend the brutality of Gianettino only deserves contempt.
I'll manage that for you. Continue your preparations, and may success attend your enterprise! I'm much obliged to you. The former A GERMAN of the body-guard. GIANETTINO. What now? GERMAN. Passing by the gate of St. Thomas I observed a great number of armed soldiers hastening towards the harbor. The galleys of the Count Fiesco were preparing for sea. GIANETTINO. Is that all? Report it no further.
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. 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.
And the thing had weapons to shoot at him; his history, his very blood, stood open to its shafts; and the sole quality of a giant, which he could show to front it, was the breath of one for a mark. These direct perceptions of the circumstances were played on by the fever he drew from his Fiesco bed.
The halter awaits the incendiary. Take him away and hang him at the church-door. MOOR. Plague on it! that's an awkward piece of business. Is there no way out of it? FIESCO. No. MOOR. Send me awhile to the galleys To the gallows. Then I'll turn Christian. FIESCO. The church refuses the dregs of infidelity. At least send me drunk into eternity! FIESCO. Sober.
MASK. A bloody answer will be demanded of you, touching a certain tear. FIESCO. What tear? MASK. A tear shed by the Countess of Lavagna. I am acquainted with that lady, and demand to know how she has merited to be sacrificed to a worthless woman? FIESCO. I understand you now; but let me ask who 'tis that offers so strange a challenge?
There is the same tearing of passion to tatters, the same predilection for florid rhetoric in the sentimental passages, and for frenzied talk and action in passages of more violent emotion. When Fiesco discovers that he has killed his wife, he first thrashes about him furiously with his sword.
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