_Cel._ Patience, good father, and hear out the rest. [_To_ ALPH. Thought you, because you bravely fought and conquered For royal Veramond, nay, saved his life, And set him free when you had conquered him, Only because he was Victoria's father; Thought you for such slight services as these, That he should spare you now? O generous madman, To give your head to one, who ne'er forgave. _Vera._ Oh, she stings me. [_Aside._ _Cel._ And you, Don Garcia, witness to this truth: You were his hated rival, fairly vanquished, And yet he spared your life. _Gar._ At your request: I owe it to you both. _Cel._ That he dismissed my sister, 'twas her fault; I charge it not on him, but 'twas his folly: A capital fool he was, in that last error, For which he justly stands condemned to death. Your sentence, royal sir? _Vera._ That he should live; Should live triumphant over Veramond, And should live happy in Victoria's love.-- Oh, I have held as long as nature could; Convinced in reason, obstinate in will: I saw the pleader's aim, found her design, I longed to be o'ercome, and yet resisted.-- What have I done against thee, my Alphonso? And what hast thou not done for Veramond? _Xim._ Oh fortunate event! _Vict._ Oh happy day! _Alph._ Oh unexpected bliss, and therefore double! _Vera._ [_To_ ALPH.] Can you forgive me? yes, I know Alphonso can forgive Victoria's father. But yet, in pity, pardon not too soon; Punish my pride a while, And make me linger for so great a good, Lest ecstasy of joy prevent this blessing, And you, instead of pardon, give me death. [_He offers to kneel to_ ALPHONSO: ALPHONSO _takes him up, and kneels himself_. _Alph._ Oh, let me raise my father from the ground! _Vera._ [_Rising._] 'Tis your peculiar virtue, my Alphonso, Always to raise me up. _Alph._ Here let me grow, till I obtain your grace. My life has been one universal crime; And you, like heaven, accepting short repentance, Forgive my length of sins. _Vera._ [_Raising him._] Let us forget from whence offence began. But since, to save my shame, thou wilt be guilty, 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. He kept his royal word; he gave her me: I lost her, when I fell beneath your sword; Or, if I have a title, I resign it, And make her yours. _Alph._ I take her, as your gift.