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Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass

(A time that lovers’ flights doth still conceal),

Through Athens gates have we devis’d to steal.

Her.

And in the wood, where often you and I

Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,

Emptying our bosoms of their counsel [sweet],

There my Lysander and myself shall meet;

And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,

To seek new friends and [stranger companies].

Farewell, sweet playfellow, pray thou for us;

And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!

Keep word, Lysander; we must starve our sight

From lovers’ food till morrow deep midnight.

Lys.

I will, my Hermia.

Exit Hermia.

Helena, adieu:

As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!

Exit Lysander.

Hel.

How happy some o’er other some can be!

Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.

But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;

He will not know what all but he do know;

And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes,

So I, admiring of his qualities.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity,

Love can transpose to form and dignity.