Enter LYSANDER and HELENA. 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, per-

fect 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's snow,
Fanned 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 !

Hei. O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me, for your merriment.
If you were civil, and knew courtesy,
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 were 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 enterprise,
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 Herinia'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 loved her, all that love is gone.

1 i. e. join heartily, unite in the same mind.

My heart with her but as guest-wise sojourned;
And now to Helen is it home returned,
There to remain.
Lys.

Helen, it is not so.
Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest, to thy peril, thou abide it dear.2-
Look where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.

Enter HERMIA. Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense.Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; Mine ear—I thank it—brought me to thy sound. But why unkindly didst thou leave me so ? Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press

to go? Her. What love could press Lysander from my side ?

Lys. Lysander's love, that would not let him bideFair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all yon fiery oes 2 and eyes of light. Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee

know, The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so ?

Her. You speak not as you think; it cannot be.

Hel. Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoined, all three,
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid !
Have you conspired, have you with these contrived
To bate me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shared,
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us,—0, and is all forgot?
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
1 Pay dearly for it, rue it.

2 i. e. circles.
3 i. e. ingenious, artful—artificiose (Lat.).
VOL. II.

Our sex, friendly, 'tis scorning you

Have with our neelds created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted;
But yet a union in partition,
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first,” like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it;
Though I alone do feel the injury.

Her. I am amazed at your passionate words. I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me.

Hel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, To follow me, and praise my eyes and face ? And made your other love, Demetrius, (Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,) To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates ? And wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love, so rich within his soul, And tender me, forsooth, affection, But by your setting on, by your consent? What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unloved ? This you should pity, rather than despise.

Her. I understand not what you mean by this. Hel. Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks,

Make mows' upon me when I turn my back;
Wink at each other; hold the sweet jest up.
This sport; well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.”
But fare ye well. 'Tis partly mine own fault;
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. In

Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse.
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!

Hel. O excellent! Her.

Sweet, do not scorn her so. Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel.

Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat; Thy threats have no more strength than her weak

prayers.
Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do.
I swear by that which I will lose for thee,
To prove him false, that says I love thee not.

Dem. I say I love thee more than he can do.
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—Sir,3 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 burr. 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 medicine! Hated potion, hence'