WHY JESUS WEPT 
47 
I go, as a tooth torn from a jaw.  Expect 
I quell this folly in a little while 
And come again — to Paris, said you, sweet ? 
 
CARRUTHERS. 
 
Leave your mad chatter with that ghastly hag ! 
You fool, the woman is sixty if an hour. 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
My answer to my promised bride is this. 
He kisses her. 
So, sir !  To you, this to remember by. 
He shoots Carruthers in the leg. 
 
MOLLY. 
 
Oh, Percy, Percy, am I not your love ? 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
I am sorry, heartily, Miss Tyson. 
 
MOLLY. 
 
O ! 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
I did indeed speak foolishly. 
 
ANGELA, aside. 
 
Your purse !