Dem.
I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia?
The one I'll slay; the other (a) ^note slayeth me.
Thou told'st me, they were stoll'n into this wood;
And here am I, and ^{6 note}wood within this wood;
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.

Hel.
You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant,
But yet you draw not iron; for my heart
Is true as steel. Leave you your pow'r to draw,
And I shall have no pow'r to follow you.

Dem.
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?

Hel.
And ev'n for that do I love thee the more;
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?

Dem.
Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;
For I am sick, when I do look on thee.

Hel.
And I am sick, when I look not on you.

Dem.
You do impeach your modesty too much,
To leave the city, and commit your self
Into the hands of one that loves you not;
To trust the opportunity of night,
And the ill counsel of a desart place,
With the rich worth of your virginity.

Hel.
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?

Dem.
I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,
And leave thee to the mercy of wild Beasts.

Hel.
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 tyger. Bootless speed!
When cowardise pursues, and valour flies.

Dem.
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.

Hel.
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 shou'd be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
I follow thee, and make a heav'n of hell;
To die upon the hand, I love so well. [Exeunt.

Previous section

Next section