Impute thy hate for me to sure instinct,
That showed thee thy true father in my foe;
Now grafted on my stock, be son to both.—
[Turning to Gar.] To you, Don Garcia, next——
Gar. Before you speak,
Permit me, sir, to assume some little merit
In this day's happiness; your promise made
Victoria mine——
Alph. What then?
Gar. Nay, hear me out.