_Philip_ [with agitation]. Ah! there, indeed-- _Mrs. D._ You take delight in misanthropical retirement. _Philip._ Oh, if you knew my feelings! my good will for mankind, as God knows it--I--it is hard to need a defence in this particular--But, I can calmly and truly say, I love mankind. But, if my compassion for their unhappy fate has been ridiculed, and if this abuse of my dearest feelings has made me reserved, does it follow that I am a misanthrope? _Mrs. D._ Mr. Brook! _Philip._ If my ideas of good company are too refined, too just, too high, to be satisfied in the slandering circles of coquettes, dunces, and gamblers, am I to be called unsociable? _Augusta_ [quickly]. Oh, no, my good friend. _Philip._ If, in any profession, for which my talents might qualify me, the best wishes of my heart would be checked by interested connections--my enthusiasm for suffering mankind, opposed by uncharitable selfishness--can you blame me for remaining as I am? _Augusta._ Certainly not. _Philip._ And now, my ardent zeal for human happiness being mistaken, the best designs of my heart condemned and overthrown by prejudice and self-conceit; perceiving that the most admired and virtuous outsides were too often only masks for hypocrisy--that impure avarice stalked abroad under the name of philanthrophy--perceiving this, I drew back, and forgot a flattering dream, of successful attention to the welfare of all the unfortunate wanderers upon earth.--Yet soon--in one serious hour, I hope to discharge the debt of a citizen to my native land--in one hour; yes, only one--but the deed will mark it.--Till that hour, I shall proceed in silence; endeavour, if possible, to be calm; and seek my comfort in friendship and a good conscience. The sneers of the superficial, the senseless judgments of a seduced multitude, shall not rob me of a moment's tranquillity. _Mrs. D._ Forgive me, Sir! I mistook your character. _Augusta._ I feel the truth of your remarks. May domestic happiness afford you the reward which you are refused by the world! _Philip._ Do you wish me that, Augusta? _Augusta._ Yes, my noble friend! I esteem you, and have still more reason to wish it heartily. _Philip_ [joyfully]. You have?--[pause]. My desires lie in a narrow compass. My fortune allows me to assist others; I have a friend, with whom I share my joys and my sorrows; and now, all is heightened by the emotions of love. _Mrs. D._ You love? _Philip._ Yes. _Augusta._ And happily? _Philip._ I know not yet.--My love may increase, but can never diminish--[he approaches Augusta]--Augusta, I love you. _Augusta._ How? _Mrs. D._ My daughter? _Philip._ Make me happy: 'tis in your power. _Augusta._ Oh! good heaven! 'tis too much! _Philip_ [hastily, but tenderly taking her hand]. Speak! I am serious, in high emotion--be gentle, Augusta. _Augusta_ [leaning on her mother; without withdrawing her hand]. Oh! mother! _Mrs. D._ What shall I say? _Augusta_ [forcibly]. I love--your brother!