_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.
_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.
_Vice._ But inform me, Benedetto; my sister?--
_Ben._ The marchioness, my lord, is still inconsolable; and in truth, she has good cause to be so. The marquis wished his daughter to be married immediately; my lady chose to defer it for a year, and my lady was obstinate. The marquis wished to take his daughter with him to Naples; my lady chose she should remain in a convent; and my lady was obstinate. Her daughter fell ill there, and died; my lady says, that she shall never recover her death, and it is but fair that my lady should be now as obstinate on this point, as she has formerly been on every other.
_Vice._ Beloved unfortunate Josepha!-- and Venoni----?
_Ben._ Good lack, poor gentleman! he was absent, when this sad event took place: for you must know, my lord, that when after the departure of her parents he went to visit his betrothed at the convent-grate, the sour-faced old abbess would’nt suffer him to see the lady Josepha. Nay, what is the strangest circumstance of all, she produced a letter from the marchioness commanding positively, that during her absence no person whatever should have access to her daughter.