_ Wretch! you shall be taught the difference between us!
_Henry._ I feel it now! proudly feel it!--You hate the man, that never
wronged you--I could love the man, that injures me--You meanly triumph
o'er a worm--I make a giant tremble.
_Sir Philip._ Take him from my sight! Why am I not obeyed?
_Miss B._ Henry, if you wish my hate should not accompany my father's,
instantly begone.
_Henry._ Oh, pity me! [_Exit._
[MISS BLANDFORD _looks after him_--SIR PHILIP, _exhausted, leans on his
servants._
_Sir Philip._ Supported by my servants! I thought I had a daughter!
_Miss B._ [_Running to him._] O you have, my father! one that loves you
better than her life!
_Sir Philip._ [_To_ SERVANT.] Leave us. [_Exit_ SERVANT. Emma, if you
feel, as I fear you do, love for that youth--mark my words! When the
dove wooes for its mate the ravenous kite; when nature's fixed
antipathies mingle in sweet concord, then, and not till then, hope to be
united.
_Miss B._ O Heaven!
_Sir Philip._ Have you not promised me the disposal of your hand?
_Miss B.
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