Julio. And mine with rapture.
[Catching her hand.
Cæsar. Don't make a fool of me, Olivia.—Wilt marry him?
Oliv. When you command me, sir.
Cæsar. My dear Don Julio, thou art my guardian angel—shall I have a son-in-law at last? Garcia, Vincentio, could you have thought it?
Gar. No, sir; if we had, we should have saved that lady much trouble; 'tis pretty clear now, why she was a vixen.
Vin. Yes, yes, 'tis clear enough, and I beg your pardon, madam, for the share of trouble I gave you—but, pray, have the goodness to tell me sincerely, what do you think of a crash?
[Crosses to Olivia.
Oliv. I love music, Don Vincentio, I admire your skill, and whenever you'll give me a concert, I shall be obliged.
[Crosses to Cæsar.