Vict. Signor, how you became acquainted with the secret of my birth I know not; but, from an acquaintance so recent, your compliment I receive as a mode of polite gallantry without a purpose.
Don Fer. What your modesty regards as cold compliments, are sentiments warm with the dearest purpose; I came hither to ratify a contract with Don Scipio's daughter; you are she, the beautiful Victoria, destined for the happy Fernando.
Vict. Pray rise, signor:—My father perhaps, even to himself, cannot justify his conduct to me: But to censure that, or to pervert his intentions, would, in me, be a breach of filial duty.
AIR XII.—VICTORIA.
By woes thus surrounded, how vain the gay smile
Of the little blind archer, those woes to beguile!
Though skilful, he misses, his aim it is cross'd,
His quiver exhausted, his arrows are lost.
Your love, though sincere, on the object you lose,
[Aside] How sweet is the passion! Ah, must I refuse?