the wounded boar!

FIESCO (laughing). The blind, unwieldy monster, which at first rattles
its heavy bones, threatening, with gaping jaws, to devour the high and
low, the near and distant, at last stumbles at a thread--Genoese, 'tis in
vain! The epoch of the masters of the sea is past--Genoa is sunk beneath
the splendor of its name. Its state is such as once was Rome's, when,
like a tennis-ball, she leaped into the racket of young Octavius. Genoa
can be free no longer; Genoa must be fostered by a monarch; therefore do
homage to the mad-brained Gianettino.

ZENTURIONE (vehemently). Yes, when the contending elements are
reconciled, and when the north pole meets the south. Come, friends.

FIESCO. Stay! stay! Upon what project are you brooding, Zibo?

ZIBO. On nothing.

FIESCO (leading them to a statue). Look at this figure.

ZENTURIONE. It is the Florentine Venus. Why point to her?

FIESCO. At least she pleases you.

ZIBO. Undoubtedly, or we should be but poor Italians. But why this
question now?

FIESCO. Travel through all the countries of the globe, and among the
most beautiful of living female models, seek one which shall unite all
the charms of this ideal Venus.