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HELENA 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.

DEMETRIUS Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
Tell you I do not nor I cannot love you? HELENA And even for that do I love you the

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.

HELENA And I am sick when I look not on you.
DEMETRIUS You do impeach your modesty too much To leave the city and commit
yourself 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.

HELENA 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 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.

HELENA The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
Run when you will; the story shall be chang’d: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the
chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger-
bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies.

DEMETRIUS 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.

HELENA 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 woo’d, and were not made to

Exit DEMETRIUS I’ll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well.

OBERON Fare thee well, nymph; ere he do leave this grove, Thou shalt fly him, and he
shall seek thy love.

Re-enter PUCK
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
PUCK Ay, there it is.

OBERON I pray thee give it me.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet
grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with
eglantine; There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lull’d in these flowers with
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