_Viceroy._ That plaintive voice-- I cannot be mistaken. Tis he! tis Venoni! my friend!
_Venoni._ (_starting_) Benvolio! you within these walls! ah, did I not entreat-- I told you, I repeat it now, I’m dead to the world. I exist for no one-- for nothing-- but grief and the memory of Josepha. Leave me! leave me! (_he resumes his despondent attitude_)
_Vice._ Not till I have obtained one last, last interview. Venoni, I claim it in the name of that paternal friendship which I have borne you for so many years, and which even now I feel for you as strong as ever. I claim it in the name of that sacred union, once so near connecting us by the most tender ties: I claim it in the name of her, who while living was alike the darling of both our hearts, and in whose grave the affection of both our hearts alike lies buried-- Venoni, I claim it in the name of Josepha.
_Venoni._ (_quitting the grate_) Of Josepha? say on you shall be heard.
_Vice._ Tell me then, cruel friend, what is your present object? why bury yourself in this abode of regret and sorrow, of repentance and despair? what reason, nay, what right have you to deprive society of talents, bestowed on you by Nature to employ for the benefit of mankind? and what excuse can you make for resigning into the hands of strangers that wealth which it is your sacred duty to distribute with your own? heaven has endowed you with talents capable of making your own existence useful; and your ungrateful neglect renders the gift of no avail: heaven has bestowed on you wealth, capable of making the existence of others happy; and your selfish indolence declines an office which the saints covet, and for which even the angels contend!
_Vice._ You are neither weak nor credulous: vulgar prejudices, superstitious terrors, enthusiastic dreams have never subjugated a mind whose innate purity can have left you nothing to fear, and whose genuine piety must have made you feel, that every thing is yours to hope. Why then do I find you in this seclusion? what good is to arise from this servile renunciation of yourself, this forgetfulness of the dignity of human nature, this disgraceful sinking under afflictions which are the common lot of all mankind? tis but too frequently the fate of man to encounter calamity; but to bear it with resignation is always his duty. Now speak, Venoni, and say, what arguments can defend your present conduct.