Hark how Piero's triumphs beat the air! 30 O, rugged mischief, how thou grat'st my heart!-- Take spirit, blood; disguise, be confident; Make a firm stand; here rests the hope of all: Lower than hell, there is no depth to fall. _The cornets sound a senet. Enter_ FELICHE _and_ ALBERTO, CASTILIO _and_ FOROBOSCO, _a_ Page _carrying a shield_; PIERO _in armour_; CATZO _and_ DILDO _and_ BALURDO. _All these_ (_saving_ PIERO) _armed with petronels_.[52] _Being entered, they make a stand in divided files_. _Pier._ Victorious Fortune, with triumphant hand, Hurleth my glory 'bout this ball of earth, Whilst the Venetian Duke is heavèd up On wings of fair success, to overlook The low-cast ruins of his enemies, To see myself adored and Genoa quake; 40 My fate is firmer than mischance can shake. _Feli._ Stand; the ground trembleth. _Pier._ Ha! an earthquake? _Bal._ O! I smell a sound. _Feli._ Piero, stay, for I descry a fume Creeping from out the bosom of the deep, The breath of darkness, fatal when 'tis wist In greatness' stomach. This same smoke, call'd pride, Take heed: she'll lift thee to improvidence, And break thy neck from steep security; 50 She'll make thee grudge to let Jehovah share In thy successful battles. O! she's ominous; Enticeth princes to devour heaven, Swallow omnipotence, out-stare dread fate, Subdue eternity in giant thought; Heaves[53] up their heart[54] with swelling, puff'd conceit, Till their souls burst with venom'd arrogance. Beware, Piero; Rome itself hath tried, Confusion's train blows up this Babel pride. _Pier._ Pish! _Dimitto superos, summa votorum attigi._[55] 60 Alberto, hast thou yielded up our fix'd decree Unto the Genoan ambassador? Are they content, if that their Duke return, To send his and his son Antonio's head, As pledges steep'd in blood, to gain their peace? _Alb._ With most obsequious sleek-brow'd entertain, They all embrace it as most gracious. _Pier._ Are proclamations sent through Italy, That whosoever brings Andrugio's head, Or young Antonio's, shall be guerdonèd 70 With twenty thousand double pistolets, And be endearèd to Piero's love? _Foro._ They are sent every way: sound policy, Sweet lord. _Feli._ [_Aside._] Confusion to these limber sycophants! No sooner mischiefs born in regency, But flattery christens it with policy.[56] _Pier._ Why, then,--_O me coelitum excelsissimum!_ The intestine malice and inveterate hate I always bore to that Andrugio, 80 Glories in triumph o'er his misery; Nor shall that carpet-boy[57] Antonio Match with my daughter, sweet-cheek'd Mellida. No; the public power makes my faction strong. _Feli._ Ill, when public power strength'neth private wrong.