Lys.
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
  Scorn and derision never come in tears.
Look when I vow, I weep, and vows so born
  In their nativity all truth appears:
How can these things in me seem scorn to you?
Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true.

Hel.
You do advance your cunning more and more,
  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.]
O 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 congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand. O let me kiss
This Princess of pure white, this seal of bliss.

Hel.
O spight, O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment:
If you were civil, and knew courtesie,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me as I know you do,
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you are men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so:
To vow and swear, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Hermia,
And now both rivals to mock Helena.
A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes
With your derision: none of noble sort
Would so offend a virgin, and extort
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.

Lys.
You are unkind Demetrius; be not so,
For you love Hermia; this you know I know.
And here with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;

And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love, and will do to my death.

Hel.
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.

Dem.
Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none;
If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone.
My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd,
And now to Helen it is home return'd,
There ever to remain.

Lys.
It is not so.

Dem.
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest to thy peril thou abide it dear.
Look where thy love comes, yonder is thy dear.

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