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?