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Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love;

And what is mine, my love shall render him.

And she is mine, and all my right of her

I do estate unto Demetrius.

Lys.

I am, my lord, as well deriv’d as he,

As well possess’d; my love is more than his;

My fortunes every way as fairly rank’d

(If 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