48  
WHY JESUS WEPT. 
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 ! 
Flings 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 farewell of Angela, and appears again on horse-
back 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 ! 
Exeunt.