_Val._ Sir, she's abbess of that very monastery where your mistress is inclosed. [_Aside to the Duke._ _Duke._ I should be glad to serve any relation of yours, Don Mario. _Mar._ Her request is, that you would be pleased to grace her chapel this afternoon. There will be music, and some little ceremony, in the reception of my two nieces, who are to be placed on pension there. _Duke._ Your nieces, I hear, are fair, and great fortunes. _Mar._ Great vexations, I'm sure they are; being daily haunted by a company of wild fellows, who buzz about my house like flies. _Duke._ Your design seems reasonable: women in hot countries are like oranges in cold; to preserve them, they must be perpetually housed. I'll bear you company to the monastery.--Come, Valerio; this opportunity is happy beyond our expectation. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter_ CAMILLO _and_ AURELIAN. _Cam._ He has smarted sufficiently for this offence. Pr'ythee, dear Aurelian, forgive him. He waits without, and appears penitent; I'll be responsible for his future carriage. _Aur._ For your sake, then, I receive him into grace. _Cam._ [_At the door._] Benito, you may appear; your peace is made. _Enter_ BENITO. _Aur._ But it must be upon conditions. _Ben._ Any conditions, that are reasonable; for, as I am a wit, sir, I have not eaten-- _Aur._ You are in the path of perdition already; that's the principal of our conditions, you are to be a wit no more. _Ben._ Pray, sir, if it be possible, let me be a little wit still. _Aur._ No, sir; you can make a leg, and dance; those are no talents of a wit: you are cut out for a brisk fool, and can be no other. _Ben._ Pray, sir, let me think I am a wit, or my heart will break. _Cam._ That you will naturally do, as you are a fool. _Aur._ Then no farther meddling with adventures, or contrivances of your own; they are all belonging to the territories of wit, from whence you are banished. _Ben._ But what if my imagination should really furnish me with some-- _Aur._ Not a plot, I hope? _Ben._ No, sir, no plot; but some expedient then, to mollify the word, when your invention has failed you? _Aur._ Think it a temptation of the devil, and believe it not. _Ben._ Then farewell all the happiness of my life. _Cam._ You know your doom, Benito; and now you may take your choice, whether you will renounce wit, or eating. _Ben._ Well, sir, I must continue my body, at what rate soever; and the rather, because now there's no farther need of me in your adventures; for I was assured by Beatrix, this morning, that her two mistresses are to be put in pension, in the nunnery of Benedictines, this afternoon. _Cam._ Then I am miserable. _Aur._ And you have deferred the telling it, till it is past time to study for prevention. _Cam._ Let us run thither immediately, and either perish in't, or free them. You'll assist me with your sword?