ANDREAS (appearing at the balcony). Who rings there?
FIESCO (in a feigned voice). Ask not, but follow me! Duke, thy star has set; Genoa is in arms against thee! Thy executioners are near, and canst thou sleep, Andreas?
ANDREAS (with dignity). I remember when the raging sea contended with my gallant vessel—when her keel cracked and the wind split her topmast. Yet Andreas Doria then slept soundly. Who sends these executioners!
FIESCO. A man more terrible than your raging sea—John Louis Fiesco.
ANDREAS (laughs). You jest, my friend. Come in the daytime to play your tricks. Midnight suits them badly.
FIESCO. Dost thou then despise thy monitor?
ANDREAS. I thank him and retire to rest. Fiesco, wearied with his rioting, sleeps, and has no time to think of Doria.
FIESCO. Wretched old man! Trust not the artful serpent! Its back is decked with beauteous colors; but when you would approach to view it you are suddenly entwined within its deadly folds. You despised the perfidious Moor. Do not despise the counsels of a friend. A horse stands ready saddled for you; fly, while you have time!
ANDREAS. Fiesco has a noble mind. I never injured him, and he will not betray me.
FIESCO. Fiesco has a noble mind and yet betrays thee. He gives thee proof of both.