_Ben._ Stop, stop! not so violent, my good friends, not so violent; for as to the prior, you must permit me to tell you that for my part, I can’t say I like him any better than yourself. And yet, signor Venoni, who is a man of great sense, believes that since the world was a world, there never was such a saint as this father Cœlestino! _Teresa._ Ah! poor signor Venoni! where is he now, Benedetto? _Ben._ Still in St. Mark’s monastery, whither he fled in despair on losing his destined bride, the lady Josepha. _Pietro._ And his senses-- are they right again? _Ben._ Why, as he believes father Cœlestino to be a saint, I should rather suppose, that they must still be very wrong indeed. _Pietro._ Perhaps that friar, who twice this morning has inquired at the palace whether the viceroy was arrived, is the bearer of some message from Venoni? _Ben._ Very likely, very likely! and therefore, Pietro, should that friar call again---- _Carlo._ (_appearing at the balcony of the palace_) Benedetto, Benedetto! the gallies, the gallies! _Ben._ Indeed! are you sure? yes, yes, yes, I hear the music! (_shouting without_) and hark, Teresa! hark! the mob are huzzaing like---- bless my heart, I shall certainly expire at his feet for joy! they come! oh! look, look, look! [A marine procession arrives-- the _viceroy_ lands from the state-galley, accompanied by the grandees of _Messina_, who conduct him to the palace gate, and take their leaves of him respectfully. While the grandees, &c. retire, _Benedetto_ and the servants pay their homage to the viceroy, who receives them graciously. _Teresa_ and the rest then busy themselves in taking charge of the baggage, and retire into the palace. The viceroy motions to _Benedetto_ to remain.] _Viceroy._ (_to the servants, as they go off_) Farewell, my friends, and for your own sakes take good care of yonder chests; part of their contents will convince you, that during my absence your fidelity and attachment have still been present to my recollection. [Exeunt _Teresa_ and _servants_. _Ben._ Ay! ay! just the same kind master! ever attentive to others! _Vice._ And without the attention of others, how could I exist myself? good Benedetto, in imparting pleasure we receive it in return: to make ourselves beloved is to make ourselves happy; and never can others love that man, who is not capable himself of loving others. _Ben._ My dear, dear lord! _Vice._ But inform me, Benedetto; my sister?--