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!
Philip [deeply moved]. In vain! he—[looking at Augusta] while here—[lets go her hand] Be happy! [going.]