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
† ^noteBeteem them from the tempest of mine eyes.

Lys.
Hermia, for ought that ever I could 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 love.

Lys.
Or else misgraffed, in respect of years—

Her.
O spight! too old, to be engag'd to young.

Lys.
Or else it stood upon the choice of ^{b note}friends—

Her.
O hell! to chuse love by another's eye.

Lys.
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it;
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the † ^notecollied night,
That (in a spleen) unfolds both heav'n 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 crost,
It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then let us teach our tryal 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 remov'd 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 lov'st 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 ^{c note}to the 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 Trojan 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.

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