Hermia: God speed fair Helena! whither away?
Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet airMore tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,The rest I'd give to be to you translated.O, teach me how you look, and with what artYou sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.
Hermia: I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
Hermia: I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
O that my prayers could such affection move!
Hermia: The more I hate, the more he follows me.
The more I love, the more he hateth me.
Hermia: His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine
None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!
Lysander: Helena, adieu:As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!
How happy some o'er other some can be!Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;He will not know what all but he do know:And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,So I, admiring of his qualities:Things base and vile, folding no quantity,Love can transpose to form and dignity:Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
Winged Cupid painted blind
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste;Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:And therefore is Love said to be a child,Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,So the boy Love is perjured every where:For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.
...and showers of oath did melt
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:Then to the wood will he to-morrow nightPursue her; and for this intelligenceIf I have thanks, it is a dear expense:But herein mean I to enrich my pain,To have his sight thither and back again.
Demetrius: Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;But yet you draw not iron, for my heartIs true as steel: leave you your power to draw,And I shall have no power to follow you.
Demetrius: Do I entice you? do I speak you fair?Or, rather, do I not in plainest truthTell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you?
And even for that do I love you the more.I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,Unworthy as I am, to follow you.What worser place can I beg in your love,--And yet a place of high respect with me,--Than to be used as you use your dog?
Demetrius: Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;For I am sick when I do look on thee.
And I am sick when I look not on you.
Demetrius: ...And the ill counsel of a desert placeWith the rich worth of your virginity.
Your virtue is my privilege: for thatIt is not night when I do see your face,Therefore I think I am not in the night;Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,For you in my respect are all the world:Then how can it be said I am alone,When all the world is here to look on me?
Demetrius: I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.
The wildest hath not such a heart as you.Run when you will, the story shall be changed:Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hindMakes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed,When cowardice pursues and valor flies.
Demetrius: I will not stay thy questions; let me go:Or, if thou follow me, do not believeBut I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:We cannot fight for love, as men may do;We should be wood and were not made to woo.I'll follow thee and make a Heaven of HellTo die upon the hand i love so well
Puck:For I must now to Oberon.
Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius
Demetrius: i charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.
Demetrius: Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go
O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies;For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears:If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers.
If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers.
For beasts that meet me run away for fear:Therefore no marvel though DemetriusDo, as a monster fly my presence thus.What wicked and dissembling glass of mineMade me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?
But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.Lysander if you live, good sir, awake.
Lysander: Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a wordIs that vile name to perish on my sword!
Do not say so, Lysander; say not soWhat though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.
Lysander: And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlookLove's stories written in love's richest book.
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,That I did never, no, nor never can,Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye,But you must flout my insufficiency?
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,In such disdainful manner me to woo.But fare you well: perforce I must confessI thought you lord of more true gentleness.O, that a lady, of one man refused.Should of another therefore be abused!
Lysander: How can these things in me seem scorn to you,Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
You do advance your cunning more and more.When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er?Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,Will even weigh, and both as light as tales.
Lysander: I had no judgment when to her I swore.
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.
Demetrius: When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kissThis princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bentTo set against me for your merriment:If you we re civil and knew courtesy,You would not do me thus much injury.Can you not hate me, as I know you do,But you must join in souls to mock me too?
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,You would not use a gentle lady so;To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Hermia;And now both rivals, to mock Helena:A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyesWith your derision! none of noble sortWould so offend a virgin, and extortA poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
Lysander: And yours of Helena to me bequeath,Whom I do love and will do till my death
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
HERMIA: You speak not as you think: it cannot be.
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all threeTo fashion this false sport, in spite of me.Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!Have you conspired, have you with these contrivedTo bait me with this foul derision?
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shared,The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,When we have chid the hasty-footed timeFor parting us,--O, is it all forgot?All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,Have with our needles created both one flower,Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,Both warbling of one song, both in one key,As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds,Had been incorporate. So we grow together,Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet an union in partition;
But yet an union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,To join with men in scorning your poor friend?It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,Though I alone do feel the injury.
HERMIA: I am amazed at your passionate words.I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,To follow me and praise my eyes and face?And made your other love, Demetrius,Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare,Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he thisTo her he hates? and wherefore doth LysanderDeny your love, so rich within his soul,And tender me, forsooth, affection,But by your setting on, by your consent?
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What thought I be not so in grace as you,So hung upon with love, so fortunate,But miserable most, to love unloved?This you should pity rather than despise.
HERNIA: I understand not what you mean by this.
Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks,Make mouths upon me when I turn my back;Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up:This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,You would not make me such an argument.But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault;Which death or absence soon shall remedy.
Lysander: Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse:My love, my life my soul, fair Helena!
O excellent!
HERMIA: Do you not jest?
Yes, sooth; and so do you.
HERMIA: O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom!You thief of love! what, have you come by nightAnd stolen my love's heart from him?
Fine, i'faith!Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tearImpatient answers from my gentle tongue?Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!
HERMIA:How low am I? I am not yet so lowBut that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,Let her not hurt me: I was never curst;I have no gift at all in shrewishness;I am a right maid for my cowardice:Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,Because she is something lower than myself,That I can match her.
HERMIA: Lower! hark, again.
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.I evermore did love you, Hermia,Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;Save that, in love unto Demetrius,I told him of your stealth unto this wood.He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him;
He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him;
But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd meTo strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too:And now, so you will let me quiet go,To Athens will I bear my folly backAnd follow you no further: let me go:You see how simple and how fond I am.
HERMIA: Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you?
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
HERMIA: What, with Lysander?
With Demetrius.
Demetrius: No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd!She was a vixen when she went to school;And though she be but little, she is fierce.
HERMIA: You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you:Nay, go not back.
I will not trust you, I,Nor longer stay in your curst company.Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray,My legs are longer though, to run away.
HERMIA: Methinks I see these things with parted eye,When every thing seems double
So methinks:And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,Mine own, and not mine own.
HERMIA: Yea; and my father.
And Hippolyta.