MOOR (retreating). That you are a fool! FIESCO. Well, take this sequin for these tidings. Now have I put on a fool's cap that these Genoese may have wherewith to rack their wits. Next I will shave my head, that they may play Merry Andrew to my Clown. How did the manufacturers receive my presents? MOOR (humorously). 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. FIESCO (laughing, gives him another sequin). 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. They turn the scale among the populace of Genoa. MOOR. What a scene it was! Zounds! I almost acquired a relish for benevolence. They caught me round the neck like madmen. The very girls seemed in love with my black visage, that's as ill-omened as the moon in an eclipse. Gold, thought I, is omnipotent: it makes even a Moor look fair. FIESCO. That thought was better than the soil which gave it birth. These words are favorable; but do they bespeak actions of equal import? MOOR. Yes--as the murmuring of the distant thunder foretells the approaching storm. The people lay their heads together--they collect in parties--break off their talk whenever a stranger passes by. Throughout Genoa reigns a gloomy silence. This discontent hangs like a threatening tempest over the republic. Come, wind, then hail and lightning will burst forth. FIESCO. Hush!--hark! What is that confused noise? MOOR (going to the window). It is the tumult of the crowd returning from the senate-house. FIESCO. To-day is the election of a procurator. Order my carriage! It is impossible that the sitting should be over. I'll go thither. It is impossible it should be over if things went right. Bring me my sword and cloak--where is my golden chain? MOOR. Sir, I have stolen and pawned it. FIESCO. That I am glad to hear. MOOR. But, how! Are there no more sequins for me? FIESCO. No. You forgot the cloak. MOOR. Ah! I was wrong in pointing out the thief. 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 Moon hastily.) What reason, laboring like a careful ant, with difficulty scrapes together, the wind of accident collects in one short moment. SCENE V. FIESCO, ZENTURIONE, ZIBO, and ASSERATO, rushing in. ZIBO. Count, impute it to our anger that we enter thus unannounced. ZENTURIONE. I have been mortally affronted by the duke's nephew in the face of the whole senate.