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Lys.

If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.

Dem.

Quick, come!

Her.

Lysander, whereto tends all this?

Lys.

Away, you Ethiop!

Dem.

No, no; he’ll

Seem to break loose—take on as you would follow,

But yet come not. You are a tame man, go!

Lys.

Hang off, thou cat, thou bur! Vile thing, let loose;

Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!

Her.

Why are you grown so rude? What change is this,

Sweet love?

Lys.

Thy love? Out, tawny Tartar, out!

Out, loathed med’cine! O hated potion, hence!

Her.

Do you not jest?

Hel.

Yes, sooth; and so do you.

Lys.

Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.

Dem.

I would I had your bond, for I perceive

A weak bond holds you. I’ll not trust your word.

Lys.

What? should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?

Although I hate her, I’ll not harm her so.

Her.

What? can you do me greater harm than hate?

Hate me, wherefore? O me, what news, my love!

Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?

I am as fair now as I was erewhile.

Since night you lov’d me; yet since night you left me: