HELENA

Call you me fair? That fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair: o happy fair! Your eyes are loadstars, and your tongues sweet air More tunable then lark, to shepherds ear, When wheat is green, when hauthorne buds appear. Sickness is catching: Oh, were favour so, Your words I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go, My ear should catch your voice, my eye, your eye, My tongue should catch your tongues sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest isle give to be to you translated. Oh, teach me how you look, and with what Art, You sway the motion of Demetrius heart. Oh that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill. Oh that my prayers could such affection move. The more I love, the more he hates me. None but your beauty; would that fault were mine. You draw me, you hard hearted Adamant: But yet you draw not Iron. For my heart Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you. Your virtue is my privilege: For that It is not night, when I do see your face. Therefore, I think, I am not in the night, Nor does this wood lack world's 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? 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 Griffon: the mild Hind Makes speed to catch the Tiger. Bootless speed, When cowardice pursues, and valour flies. I, 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 wooed, and were not made to woo. I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well. Stay; though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. Oh, I am out of breath, in this found chase, The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. Happy is Hermia, wheresoever 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 washed then hers. No, no: I am as ugly as a Bear: For beasts that meet me, run away, for fear. Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius Do, as a monster, fly my presence, thus. What wicked and dissembling glass, of mine, Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyes! But, who is here? Lysander, on the ground? Dead, or a sleep? I see no blood, no wound, Lysander, if you live, good sir awake. Do not say so, Lysander, say not so. What though he love your Hermia ? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. 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? Good troth you do me wrong (good sooth you do) In such disdainful manner, me to woo. But, fare you well: perforce, I must confess, I thought you Lord of more true gentleness. Oh, that a Lady, of one man refused, Should, of another, therefore be abused! Exit. 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 over? 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. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her over. Oh spite! Oh hell! I see, you all are bent To set against me, for your merriment If you were 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 to? If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle Lady so; To vow, and swear, and super praise my parts, 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 maids eyes, With your derision None, of noble sort, Would so offend a virgin, and extort A poor souls patience, all to make you sport. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. Lo: she is one of this confederacy. Now I perceive, they have conjoined all three, To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid, Have you conspired, have you with these contrived 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 time, For parting us; Oh, is all forgotten? All schooldaies 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 grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted; But yet and union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem: So with two seeming bodies, but one heart, Two of the first life coats in heraldry, Endue but to one, and crowned with one crest. And will you rend 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. 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 this, To her he hates? And wherefore does Lysander Deny your love (so rich within his soul) And tender me (forsooth) affection, But by your setting on, by your consent? What, though 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 then despise. I 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. If you have any pity, grace, or manners, You would not make me such and argument. But fare you well: 'tis partly my own fault: Which death, or absence soon shall remedy. Oh excellent! Yes sooth: and so do you. Fine, I faith. Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear Impatient answers, from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you. I pray you, though you mock me, gentleman, Let her not hurt me, I was never cursed: 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 then my self, That I can match her. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me, I evermore did love you Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wronged you Save that in love, unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood. He followed you: for love, I followed him. But he hath chid me hence, and threatened me To strike me, spurn me; nay to kill me to. And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back, And follow you no further. Let me go. You see how simple, and how found I am. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. With Demetrius. Oh, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd. She was a vixen, when she went to school: And though she be but little, she is fierce. I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your cursed company. Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray: My legs are longer though, to run away. So me thinks: And I have fond Demetrius, Like a jewel, Mine own, and not mine own. And Hyppolita. How happy some, over othersome, 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 erres, doting on Hermia's eyes: So I, admiring of his qualities. Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind: And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath loves 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 looked on Hermia's eyes, He hailed 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. I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: Then, to the wood, will he, to morrow night, Pursue her: and for this intelligence, If I have thanks, it is a deer expense: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sighed thither, and back again. Exit. And even, for that, do I love you, the more: I am your Spaniel: and, Demetrius, The more you Beatrice 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 worse place can I beg, in your love (And yet, a place of high respect with me) Then to be used as you use your dog. And I am sick, when I look not on you. Oh, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so. Oh weary night, Oh long and tedious night, Abate thy hours, shine comforts, from the east; That I may back to Athens, by day light, From these that my poor company detest: And sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrows eye, Steal me a while from mine own company. Sleep.