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<- Previous | Table of Contents | Next -> Digital Library - Digital Library-A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare

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
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 [Waking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy

Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word Is that vile name to perish on my sword!
HELENA 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.

LYSANDER Content with Hermia! No: I do repent The tedious minutes I with her have

Not Hermia but Helena I love: Who will not change a raven for a dove? The will of
man is by his reason sway’d, And reason says you are the worthier maid.

Things growing are not ripe until their season; So I, being young, till now ripe not to
reason; And touching now the point of human skill, Reason becomes the marshal to my
will, And leads me to your eyes, where I o’erlook Love’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? 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.
O, that a lady of one man refus’d Should of another therefore be abus’d!

LYSANDER She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there; And never mayst thou
come Lysander near!

For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as
the heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my
surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!

And, all my powers, address your love and might To honour Helen, and to be her

HERMIA [Starting] Help me, Lysander, help me; do thy best To pluck this crawling
serpent from my breast.

Ay me, for pity! What a dream was here!
Lysander, look how I do quake with fear.
Methought a serpent eat my heart away, And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.
Lysander! What, remov’d? Lysander! lord!
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