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…entlemen. Come in ! My steward shall serve somewhat. Sees Molly. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! You bring a lady, then, Carruthers ! CARRUTHERS. Madam ! Give me that boy ! ANGELA. You fool, you are too late ! This is a man.
…Ah ! I think I must go on. I have an appoint- ment at the club. SIR PERCY. Yet your lordship walks East. MOLLY. Oh, I am not revengeful. Give me a fiver, my Lord Mar- quis, and we’ll call it square. SIR PERCY. For me, my angel, get this prescription filled.
20 WHY JESUS WEPT. Give me for grace His beautiful daughter, Voluptuous charmer ? A golden ring Should bring her to me ; No marriage dreamy ; Identity, love ! He looks up, Stay ! In the wood By the waterway, stands A delicate fairy ! Molly Tyson is discovered. I’ll steal from above, Watch her. How good ! How sweet of her hands ! How dainty and airy ! How perfect, how kind ! How bright in her thoughts ! How subtle, refined, The least light of her mind ! Let me approach ! O fear ! O sorrow ! I fear to encroach. Scree-king, I borrow Thy frown, thy…
… GLENSTRAE. I can cure you. I can make you strong and happy again. O what rapture ! SIR PERCY. What is it ? LADY GLENSTRAE. Here, let me give you this medicine. A little prick of pain, and then — pleasure — Oh ! (She bends caressingly over the arm of Sir Percy de Percivale, and stabs it with a needle.)
… With pleasure — ha ! a most amusing meeting — ha ! ANGELA. Where have you been this evening ? GLENSTRAE. O most dull, indeed ! I had to give the Presidential address at St. Martin’s Town Hall for the Children’s Special Service Mission. ANGELA. Yes, your Lordship is indeed a true friend to the little ones. A curious coincidence. I am the new president of the Zenana Mission. GLENSTRAE. You ! ANGELA. Think of the poor heathen women kept in such terrible seclusion ! GLENSTRAE. Ah ! I had not thought your sympathy was genuine ; but there, there ! T…
…age. GLENSTRAE. Here, then, lives the pretty piece of goods Angela wrote me of. (Molly appears at doorway.) Ah ! my pretty lass, can you give a poor old man a glass of milk ? MOLLY. Yes, sir, I will fetch you one. Pray you, set you down awhile. (He sits 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 ? MOLLY. O sir ! GLENSTRAE. I am the Marquis of Glenstrae, my pretty we…
…ife well spiced With victory — this beats all. Hortense ! Hortense ! Bring me the brandy — pour a double dram ! Here’s luck — ah, Satan, give me fifty such ! Drinks off the brandy. And now to bed again — to sleep, I am tired. She goes in. Introduction of new character. 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…
… I shall be willing to do so—merely as a gentleman—till you betray the trust ; but at present nobody worthy of serious consideration can give me any clear notion of what you actually assert. I labour under no such disadvantages. So have no diffidence in asking you to believe me. Yours affectionately, ALEISTER CROWLEY.
WHY JESUS WEPT 63 Get a doctor to give you a prescription like this — they ask a hundred francs — oh ! it is a shame ! Buy a little syringe ; and that is Heaven for all your life. — How do you feel ? SIR PERCY. Why, I am well at once. I never felt better in my life. The devil take my trouble now ! I shall go out and conquer the whole world. I shall be the great magician, the Lord of the Stars. I have it in me to write poetry. Yes, that, first. (Goes to table and takes pen and paper.) In praise of — what is your medicine called, dear Marchioness…
…ather dead. These words (tapping a letter) shall speak Even from the tomb. These words shall be obeyed By force of ancient habit : these give me Supreme authority to exercise By stealth, not overt till the hour be come When madness seats herself upon the lad, And he turn serpent on his friends. But no ! There is too strong a discipline of sense, Too cool a brain, too self-controlled a heart : — Well, we shall see. Turns to his books. SCENE V SIR PERCY PERCIVALE, on Wastwater. God, I have rowed ! My hands are one blister ; By arms are one ache ;…