MASK. It is the same that once adored the lady Zibo, and yielded her to Fiesco.
FIESCO. Scipio Bourgognino!
BOURGOGNINO (unmasking). And who now stands here to vindicate his honor, that yielded to a rival base enough to tyrannize over innocence.
FIESCO (embraces him with ardor). Noble youth! thanks to the sufferings of my consort, which have drawn forth the manly feelings of your soul; I admire your generous indignation—but I refuse your challenge.
BOURGOGNINO (stepping back). Does Fiesco tremble to encounter the first efforts of my sword?
FIESCO. No, Bourgognino! against a nation's power combined I would boldly venture, but not against you. The fire of your valor is endeared to me by a most lovely object—the will deserves a laurel, but the deed would be childish.
BOURGOGNINO (with emotion). Childish, Count! women can only weep at injuries. 'Tis for men to revenge them.
FIESCO. Uncommonly well said—but fight I will not.
BOURGOGNINO (turning upon him contemptuously). Count, I shall despise you.
FIESCO (with animation). By heaven, youth, that thou shalt never do—not even if virtue fall in value, shall I become a bankrupt. (Taking him by the hand, with a look of earnestness.) Did you ever feel for me—what shall I say—respect?