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Puck. This is the woman; but not this the man.
Would he have stolen away
Her. What's this to my Lysander ? where is he?
Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivist me past
the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then ? Henceforth be never numbered among men ! O, once 'tell true, tell true, e'en for my sake! Durst thou have looked upon him, being awake, And hast thou killed him sleeping? O brave
touch! Could not a worm, an adder, do so much ? An adder did it; for with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised
mood : I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
Her. I pray thee, tell me then, that he is well. Dem. An if I could, what should I get there
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
[Lies down Obe. What hast thou done ? thou hast mistaken
quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight: Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true-love turned, and not a false turned true. Puck. Then fate o'errules, that, one man holding
troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find : All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear. By some illusion see thou bring her here: I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.
Puck. I go, I go look how I go,Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. (Exit. Obe. Flower of this purple die, Hit with Cupid's archery,
(Squeezes the flower on Demetrius's
As the Venus of the sky.-
luck. Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand;
Lord what fools these mortals be!
Will cause Demetrius to awake.
That must needs be sport alone;
Enter LYSANDER and HELENA
in scorn ?
In their nativity all truth appears.
Hel. You do advance your cunning more and
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.
Lys. I had no judgment, when to her I swore. Hel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her
o'er. Lys. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. Dem. [Awaking.] 0 Helen, goddess, nymph,
perfect, divine ! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow ! That pure congealéd white, high Taurus' snow, Fanned with the eastern wind, turns to a crow, When thou hold'st up thy hand. 0, let me kiss This pureness of pure white, this seal of bliss !
Hel. O spite! O 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,