DEMETRIUS

Relent, sweet Hermia, and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. I love thee not: therefore pursue me not Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia? The one I'll stay: the other stays me. Thou toldst me, they were stolen unto this wood: And here am I, and wood, within this wood: Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence, get the gone, and follow me no more. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Or rather do I not in plainest truth, Tell you I do not, not I cannot love you? Tempt not, too much, the hatred of my spirit. For I am sick, when I do look on thee. You do impeach your modesty too much, To leave the city, and commit your self, Into the hands of one that loves you not, To trust the opportunity of night, And the ill counsel of a desert place, With the rich worth of your virginity. I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. You spend your passion, on a mispris'd mood: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood: Nor is he dead, for ought that I can tell. There is no following her in this fierce vain. Here therefore, for a while, I will remain. So sorrows heaviness does heavier grow. For debt that bankrout flip does sorrow owe: Which now in some slight measure it will pay; If for his tender here I make some stay. Lie down. Oh Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect divine, To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyes! Crystal is muddy. Oh, how ripe, in show, Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure coniealed white, high Taurus snow, Found with the Eastern wind, turns to a crow, When thou holdest up thy hand. Oh, let me kiss This Princess of pure white, this seal of bliss Lysander, keep thy Hermia: I will none. If ere I loved her, all that love is gone. My heart to her, but as guestwise, soiournd: And now to Helen, is it home returned, There to remain. Disparage not the faith, thou dost not know; Least to thy peril, thou aby it deer. Look where thy love comes: yonder is thy deer. No sir: she shall not, though you take her partly. Follow? Nay: I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl, Lysander, speak again. Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speak in some bush. Where dost thou hide thy head? Abide me, if thou darest. For well I wot, Thou runnest before me, shifting every place, And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. Where art thou now? My Lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither, to this wood, And I in fury hither followed them; Fair Helena, in fancy following me. But my good Lord, I wot not by what power (But by some power it is) my love, To Hermia (melted as the snow) Seems to me now as the remembrance of and idle gaude, Which in my childhood I did dote upon: And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, The object and the pleasure of mine eye, Is only Helena. To her, my Lord, Was I betrothed, ere I see Hermia : But, Like a sickness, did I loath this food. But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, And will for evermore be true to it. It is the wittiest partition, that ever I herd dis course, my Lord. No remedy, my Lord, when walls are so wilful, to hear without warning. The very best at a beast, my Lord, that ere I saw. He should have worn the horns, on his head. He dares not come there, for the candle. For, you see, it is already in snuff. Why? All these should be in the lanthorn: for all these are in the Moon. But silence: here comes Thisbe. And thus she means, videlicet ; I, and Wall to. I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. I will not stay thy questions. Let me go: Or if thou follow me, do not believe, But I shall do thee mischief, in the wood. Oh, Why rebuke you him, that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter, on your bitter foe. No wonder, my Lord. One Lion may, when many Asses do. A moth will turn the balance; which Pyramus, which Thisbe is the better: he for a man; God warned us she, for a woman; God bless us. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. And if I could, what should I get therefore? Yea, art thou there? Nay then thou mockest me. Thou shat buy this dear, If ever I thy face by day light see. Now, go thy way. Faintness constrains me, To measure, out my length, on this cold bed: By days approach look to be visited. Not so my Lord. For his valour cannot carry his dis cretion: and the fox carries the goose. So should the murdered look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart, with your stern cruelty. Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus, in her glimmering sphere. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. I say, I love thee more then he can do. Quick come. No, no: heel Seem to break lose: take on as you would follow; But yet come not. You are a tame man, go. I would I had your bound. For I perceive, A weak bound holds you. I'll not trust your word. Are you sure That we are awake? It seems to me, That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think, The Duke was here, and bid us follow him? Why then, we are awake: lets follow him, and by the way lets recount our dreams. Well roared, Lion. And then came Pyramus. No Die, but and ace for him. For he is but one. You are too officious, In her behalf, that scorns your services. Let her alone: speak not of Helena, Take not her partly. For if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it. These things seem small and undistinguishable, Like far off mountains turned into clouds.