FRIAR.
Aye—aye—he’s very right—the patriarch is—
In fact of all that he has sent me after
Not much turns out his way—Why put on me
Such business and no other? I don’t care
To coax and wheedle, and to run my nose
Into all sorts of things, and have a hand
In all that’s going forward. I did not
Renounce the world, for my own part, in order
To be entangled with ’t for other people.
FRIAR and TEMPLAR.
TEMPLAR (abruptly entering).
Good brother, are you there? I’ve sought you long.
FRIAR.
Me, sir?
TEMPLAR.
What, don’t you recollect me?
FRIAR.