36  
WHY JESUS WEPT. 
ANGELA. 
 
Love, Percy (she lays one hand on his shoulder and looks deeply in his 
eyes), is wit, and laughter, and wisdom ; all of love, and in it ; 
but love without these is a mawkish, moonish distemper of 
folly — and will pass.  I shall not pass, my love ! — Ah !  you 
feel my breath upon your face ! 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
Yes — do not ! 
 
ANGELA. 
 
I shall do so — you dare not move away from me ! I have 
you ? 
No !  Ah, Percy, Percy, will you break a heart that only 
beats for you ? 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
You woo so well that I think you must have loved before. 
 
ANGELA. 
 
Ay !  but not like this.  If I have loved it was but to study 
love, to learn his arts ; to make myself the queen I am, that I 
might have strength to win you — never before has my heart 
been touched.  Now my arts fail me.  I am a poor and simple 
girl ; and my eyes are aching with the sight of you, and my 
lips are mad to kiss you ! 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
Your breath is like a mist of rose-dawn about me.