performed thy task like a bungler. Who pays thy wages?

MOOR (after several fruitless attempts to escape). You cannot hang me
higher than the gallows are----

FIESCO. No--be comforted--not on the horns of the moon, but higher than
ever yet were gallows--yet hold! Thy scheme was too politic to be of thy
own contrivance speak, fellow! who hired thee?

MOOR. Think me a rascal, sir, but not a fool.

FIESCO. What, is the scoundrel proud? Speak, sirrah! Who hired thee?

MOOR (aside). Shall I alone be called a fool? Who hired me? 'Twas but
a hundred miserable sequins. Who hired me, did you ask? Prince
Gianettino.

FIESCO (walking about in a passion). A hundred sequins? And is that all
the value set upon Fiesco's head? Shame on thee, Prince of Genoa! Here,
fellow (taking money from an escritoire), are a thousand for thee. Tell
thy master he is a niggardly assassin. (MOOR looks at him with
astonishment.) What dost thou gaze at? (MOOR takes up the money--lays
it down--takes it up again, and looks at FIESCO with increased
astonishment). What dost thou mean?

MOOR (throwing the money resolutely upon the table). Sir, that money I
have not earned--I deserve it not.

FIESCO. Blockhead, thou hast deserved the gallows; but the offended
elephant tramples on men not on worms. Were thy life worth but two words