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not with vantage) as Demetrius’;

      And (which is more than all these boasts can be)

      I am belov’d of beauteous Hermia.

      Why should not I then prosecute my right?

      Demetrius, I’ll avouch it to his head,

      Made love to Nedar’s daughter, Helena,

      And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,

      Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,

      Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

       The.

      I must confess that I have heard so much,

      And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;

      But, being over-full of self-affairs,

      My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come,

      And come, Egeus, you shall go with me;

      I have some private schooling for you both.

      For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself

      To fit your fancies to your father’s will;

      Or else the law of Athens yields you up

      (Which by no means we may extenuate)

      To death, or to a vow of single life.

      Come, my Hippolyta; what cheer, my love?

      Demetrius and Egeus, go along;

      I must employ you in some business

      Against our nuptial, and confer with you

      Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.

       Ege.

      With duty and desire we follow you.

       Exeunt. [Manent Lysander and Hermia.]

       Lys.

      How now, my love? why is your cheek so pale?

      How chance the roses there do fade so fast?

       Her.

      Belike for want of rain; which I could well

      Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.

       Lys.

      Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,

      Could ever hear by tale or history,

      The course of true love never did run smooth;

      But either it was different in blood—

       Her.

      O cross! too high to be enthrall’d to [low].

       Lys.

      Or else misgraffed in respect of years—

       Her.

      O spite! too old to be engag’d to young.

       Lys.

      Or else it stood upon the choice of friends—

       Her.

      O hell, to choose love by another’s eyes!

       Lys.

      Or if there were a sympathy in choice,

      War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,

      Making it momentany as a sound,

      Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,

      Brief as the lightning in the collied night,

      That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth;

      And ere a man hath power to say “Behold!”

      The jaws of darkness do devour it up:

      So quick bright things come to confusion.

       Her.

      If then true lovers have been ever cross’d,

      It stands as an edict in destiny.

      Then let us teach our trial patience,

      Because it is a customary cross,

      As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,

      Wishes and tears, poor fancy’s followers.

       Lys.

      A good persuasion; therefore hear me, Hermia:

      I have a widow aunt, a dowager,

      Of great revenue, and she hath no child.

      From Athens is her house remote seven leagues;

      And she respects me as her only son.

      There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;

      And to that place the sharp Athenian law

      Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me, then

      Steal forth thy father’s house to-morrow night;

      And in the wood, a league without the town

      (Where I did meet thee once with Helena

      To do observance to a morn of May),

      There will I stay for thee.

       Her.

      My good Lysander,

      I swear to thee, by Cupid’s strongest bow,

      By his best arrow with the golden head,

      By the simplicity of Venus’ doves,

      By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves,

      And by that fire which burn’d the Carthage queen

      When the false Troyan under sail was seen,

      By all the vows that ever men have broke

      (In number more than ever women spoke),

      In that same place thou hast appointed me

      To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.

       Lys.

      Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.

       Enter Helena.

       Her.

      God speed fair Helena! whither away?

       Hel.

      Call you me fair? That fair again unsay.

      Demetrius loves your fair, O happy fair!

      Your eyes are lodestars, and your tongue’s sweet air

      More tuneable than lark to shepherd’s ear

      When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.

      Sickness is catching; O, were favor so,

      [Yours would] I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;

      My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,

      My tongue should catch your tongue’s sweet melody.

      Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,

      The rest I’ll give to be to you translated.

      O, teach me how you look, and with what art

      You sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart.

      

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