_Prior._ (_in an humble voice_) I heard that your excellence was in the convent, and was unwilling to deprive you of an uninterrupted interview with your friend. But the hour is come, when our rules enjoin us solitude; pardon me then, when my duty compels me to observe---- _Vice._ I understand you, father; it is time that I should retire: yet surely your rules are not so strict as to prohibit my conversing with Venoni for one half hour more? _Prior._ It grieves me to inform your excellence, that I have already in some degree infringed upon the scrupulous observance of our regulations. It may not be. _Venoni._ How, father? a single half hour surely---- _Prior._ Ah, what do you request of me, my son? the viceroy’s visit aims at depriving me of my dearest friend; of that friend whom I have selected from all mankind; and shall I not oppose the perseverance of his efforts? I know well the count Benvolio’s influence over your mind, and tremble at the power of his persuasions. I cannot, and I ought not to abandon you to the tender anxious insinuations of generous but misjudging friendship; and I must not permit your eyes to dwell too long upon the deceitful pleasures of that world, which you have quitted with so much reason, and to which with such mistaken kindness your friends would force you back. _Vice._ Father, this eagerness---- _Prior._ You have promised to be my brother, to be that which is far dearer, my friend: and shall I renounce a treasure so invaluable at the very moment, which ought to make it mine forever? No, no! Venoni, nor will I fear your exacting from me so great a sacrifice. He whose tears I have dried, whose sorrows I have shared-- who has told me a thousand times that I was his only consolation, and that my sympathy shed the only gleam over his days of mourning. No! never will I believe that he will now reward my friendship with caprice, with desertion, with ingratitude so cruel, so cutting, so unlooked for! _Venoni._ Oh, good father-- I know not how---- _Vice._ You talk, sir, much of your friendship? I too profess to feel for Venoni no moderate share of that sentiment; and I think, that I prove my friendship best, when I advise him not to renounce a world, to which he owes the service of his talents and the example of his virtues. Yes, sir, yes! I advise Venoni to return into the world-- and at least in giving that advice, I am certain that no one will suspect me of having views upon his fortune.