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[Exit.]

Hel.

O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!

The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.

Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies,

For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.

How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears;

If so, my eyes are oft’ner wash’d than hers.

No, no; I am as ugly as a bear;

For beasts that meet me run away for fear.

Therefore no marvel though Demetrius

Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.

What wicked and dissembling glass of mine

Made me compare with Hermia’s sphery eyne!

But who is here? Lysander! on the ground?

Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.

Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.

Lys. [Awaking.]

And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.

Transparent Helena, nature shows art,

That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.

Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word

Is that vile name to perish on my sword!

Hel.

Do not say so, Lysander, say not so.

What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?

Yet Hermia still loves you; then be content.