Collected Works (Vol. III)

33 MOLLY. Oh, Percy, Percy, am I not your love? Sik PERcY. I am sorry, heartily, Miss Tyson. MOLLY. SIR PERCY. I did indeed speak foolishly. ANGELA (aszde). Your purse ! SIR PERCY (aside). O that were devilish—she’s a good girl ! ANGELA. I hate her. SiR PERcY. Buy yourself a pretty hat ! Forget my pretty speeches | [Pings his purse down. CARRUTHERS. O Lord Christ ! In one short day—he was a gentleman ! Sir Percival! Would God I were dead too ! If he had lived—thank God he died! Sir Percy, Lend me your pistol ; here’s a heart to hit ! [Sir Percy descends, after taking fare- well of ANGELA, and appears agatn on horseback among his men. SiR PERCY. Arnold and Ritson, tend the wounded man ! To breakfast, gentlemen ! [Looks up. Farewell ! ANGELA (waves her handkerchief and throws a kiss), Farewell ! | Axveunt. WIIY JESUS WEPT ANGELA, Ah, were such nights thy gift, dear Christ, all maids Were well thy servants. speaking ! The utmost triumph of a life well spiced With victory---this beats all. Ilortense! IJortense ! Bring me the brandy-—pour a double dram ! Ilere’s luck—ah, Satan, give me fifty such ! [Drinks off the brandy. And now to bed again—to sleep, I am tired. [She goes tit. This is past all While the scene ts being shifted, enter GOWER as Chorus. The figure of the Marquis of Glenstrae Demands the kind attention of the spot Of consciousness that readers shift away In awe of such a high exalted pot, In England’s upper Witenagemot A figure bright enough to make the sun dun, Yet common—to conceive him asketh not Imagination’s waistcoat buttons undone ! Any old gentleman in any club in London. SCENE IX. Enter the MARQUIS OF GLENSTRAK, Outside TYSON’S Cottage. GLUENSTRAE, Here, then, lives the pretty piece of goods ‘Angela wrote me of. (MOLLY appears at door- way.) Ah! my pretty lass, can you give a poor old man a glass of milk? MOLLY. Yes, sir, I will fetch you one. set you down awhile. Pray you, [He stts down, She goes. GLENSTRAE. Ugh! Ugh! This rheumatism at me again. I wish I had left the business to Arthur.—But there, there, one never knows. (MOLLY comes in with the milk.) There, there ! what have you been crying for?