Hermia puppet why so

Helena believes both men are mocking her. When Hermia arrives and learns that Lysander has abandoned her for Helena, she threatens Helena, who thinks that Hermia is part of the conspiracy. Lysander and Demetrius prepare to duel to prove their right to Helena. Helena and Hermia also fall asleep. In the city,…. Theseus, duke of Athens, is planning the festivities for his upcoming wedding to the newly captured Amazon, Hippolyta.

Egeus arrives…. Pyramus will…. Oberon and Titania, king and queen of the fairies, quarrel over possession of a young Indian boy. Oberon orders Robin…. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.

O,—As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. O monstrous! O strange! Pray, masters! I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier: Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.

Why do they run away? O Bottom, thou art changed! What do you see? Bless thee, Bottom! I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to fright me, if they could.

But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days; the more the pity that some honest neighbours will not make them friends.

Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Out of this wood do not desire to go: Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate; The summer still doth tend upon my state; And I do love thee: therefore, go with me; I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee, And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep; And I will purge thy mortal grossness so That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.

And I. Where shall we go? Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; And pluck the wings from Painted butterflies To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes: Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

Hail, mortal! I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech your worship's name. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman? I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too.

Your name, I beseech you, sir? Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kindred had made my eyes water ere now. I desire your more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. The moon methinks looks with a watery eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity.

I wonder if Titania be awaked; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. How now, mad spirit! What night-rule now about this haunted grove? My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.

The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake When I did him at this advantage take, An ass's nole I fixed on his head: Anon his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So, at his sight, away his fellows fly; And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls; He murder cries and help from Athens calls.

Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there: When in that moment, so it came to pass, Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.

This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? I took him sleeping,—that is finish'd too,— And the Athenian woman by his side: That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. Stand close: this is the same Athenian. This is the woman, but not this the man. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?

Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse, For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse, If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too. The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me: would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole earth may be bored and that the moon May through the centre creep and so displease Her brother's noontide with Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him; So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.

So should the murder'd look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. What's this to my Lysander? I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. Out, dog! Hast thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never number'd among men! Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch!

Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? An adder did it; for with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. You spend your passion on a misprised mood: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.

An if I could, what should I get therefore? A privilege never to see me more. And from thy hated presence part I so: See me no more, whether he be dead or no. There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here therefore for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe: Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. What hast thou done? Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath.

About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find: All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: By some illusion see thou bring her here: I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.

I go, I go; look how I go, Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.

When thou wakest, if she be by, Beg of her for remedy. Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand; And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Lord, what fools these mortals be!

Stand aside: the noise they make Will cause Demetrius to awake. Then will two at once woo one; That must needs be sport alone; And those things do best please me That befal preposterously. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

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.

I had no judgment when to her I swore. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!

That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, Fann'd 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! I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment: If you we re 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!

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 Hermia's love I yield you up my part; And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom I do love and will do till my death. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone.

My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, And now to Helen is it home return'd, There to remain. Helen, it is not so. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. 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. Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go? What love could press Lysander from my side?

Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light. Why seek'st thou me? You speak not as you think: it cannot be. Lo, she is one of this confederacy! Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. Injurious Hermia! 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,—O, is it all forgot?

All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles 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 grow together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an 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. I am amazed at your passionate words. 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?

What thought 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. I understand not what you mean by this.

Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, Make mouths upon me when I turn my back; Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up: This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault; Which death or absence soon shall remedy. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: My love, my life my soul, fair Helena! O excellent! Sweet, do not scorn her so. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. 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. I say I love thee more than he can do. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. Quick, come!

Lysander, whereto tends all this? Away, you Ethiope! No, no; he'll Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow, But yet come not: you are a tame man, go!

Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! Why are you grown so rude? Thy love! Out, loathed medicine! Do you not jest? Yes, sooth; and so do you. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. I would I had your bond, for I perceive A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word.

What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. What, can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate me! Am not I Hermia? I am as fair now as I was erewhile. Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me: Why, then you left me—O, the gods forbid!

Ay, by my life; And never did desire to see thee more. You thief of love! Fine, i'faith! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures; she hath urged her height; And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.

And are you grown so high in his esteem; Because I am so dwarfish and so low? How low am I, thou painted maypole?

I am not yet so low But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me: I was never curst; I have no gift at all in shrewishness; I am a right maid for my cowardice: Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, Because she is something lower than myself, That I can match her. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him; But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too: And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back And follow you no further: let me go: You see how simple and how fond I am.

Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you? A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. What, with Lysander? With Demetrius. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd!

She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce. Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?

Let me come to her. Get you gone, you dwarf; You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made; You bead, you acorn. You are too officious In her behalf that scorns your services.

Let her alone: speak not of Helena; Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it. Now she holds me not; Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you: Nay, go not back. I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though, to run away.

I am amazed, and know not what to say. This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest, Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. Did not you tell me I should know the man By the Athenian garment be had on? And so far blameless proves my enterprise, That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; And so far am I glad it so did sort As this their jangling I esteem a sport. Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight: Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; The starry welkin cover thou anon With drooping fog as black as Acheron, And lead these testy rivals so astray As one come not within another's way.

Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong; And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; And from each other look thou lead them thus, Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep: Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error with his might, And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.

When they next wake, all this derision Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision, And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, With league whose date till death shall never end. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all, That in crossways and floods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone; For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully themselves exile from light And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.

But we are spirits of another sort: I with the morning's love have oft made sport, And, like a forester, the groves may tread, Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red, Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down: I am fear'd in field and town: Goblin, lead them up and down.

Here comes one. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou? I will be with thee straight. Follow me, then, To plainer ground.

In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come?

Come, recreant; come, thou child; I'll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled That draws a sword on thee. Yea, art thou there? Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here. He goes before me and still dares me on: When I come where he calls, then he is gone. For if but once thou show me thy grey light, I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite.

Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not? Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place, And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.

Where art thou now? Come hither: I am here. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear, If ever I thy face by daylight see: Now, go thy way.

Faintness constraineth me To measure out my length on this cold bed. O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east, That I may back to Athens by daylight, From these that my poor company detest: And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.

Yet but three? Come one more; Two of both kinds make up four. Here she comes, curst and sad: Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad. Never so weary, never so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, I can no further crawl, no further go; My legs can keep no pace with my desires.

Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! On the ground Sleep sound: I'll apply To your eye, Gentle lover, remedy. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. Where's Peaseblossom?

Scratch my head Peaseblossom. Where's Mounsieur Cobweb? Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag.

Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior.

Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur. What's your Will? Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love? I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs and the bones. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good dry oats.

Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, begone, and be all ways away. O, how I love thee!

See'st thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity: For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool, I did upbraid her and fall out with her; For she his hairy temples then had rounded With a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.

When I had at my pleasure taunted her And she in mild terms begg'd my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child; Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent To bear him to my bower in fairy land.

And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes: And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain; That, he awaking when the other do, May all to Athens back again repair And think no more of this night's accidents But as the fierce vexation of a dream.

But first I will release the fairy queen. Be as thou wast wont to be; See as thou wast wont to see: Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such force and blessed power.

Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. My Oberon! Methought I was enamour'd of an ass. There lies your love. How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head. Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep of all these five the sense. Music, ho! Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool's eyes peep. Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.

Now thou and I are new in amity, And will to-morrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity: There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. Fairy king, attend, and mark: I do hear the morning lark. Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade: We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wandering moon.

Come, my lord, and in our flight Tell me how it came this night That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground. Go, one of you, find out the forester; For now our observation is perform'd; And since we have the vaward of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds.

I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear Such gallant chiding: for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. Now I see that all three of them have joined together to create this game of lies in order to hurt me. Hurtful Hermia! Ungrateful girl! Have you conspired and schemed to torment me with this awful mockery?

Our schoolgirl friendship, our childhood innocence? Hermia, we used to sit together like two gods of craftsmanship, and sew one flower with our two needles, working on the same single piece of cloth. We would sit on the same cushion, singing the same song in perfect tune, as if our hands, our sides, our voices and our minds were joined as one.

We grew up together, like two cherries—which seem to be separate but are also joined together. Two loving cherries sharing one stem.

That's just how it was with us, who seemed to have two bodies but one heart, like doubled coats of arms that belong separately to a husband and wife who also share a single crest. Are you really going to rip apart our old friendship by joining these men to humiliate your poor friend?

I scorn you not. It seems that you scorn me. I don't hate you. It seems like you hate me. 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. Didn't you get Lysander to mock me by following me around, praising my eyes and face?

And didn't you make your other love, Demetrius—who just before kicked me with his foot—to call me a goddess, a nymph, and some divine, rare, precious angel? Why would he say that to a girl he hates? And why does Lysander deny that he loves you, when he loves you all the way down to his very soul, and offer me his affection, unless you told him to and he agreed to it? You should pity me for it, not despise me. I understand not what you mean by this.

Ay, do. Persever, counterfeit sad looks, Make mouths upon me when I turn my back, Wink each at 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. Yes, do that. Keep it up, pretend to be serious, but then make faces at me behind my back, wink at each other, and keep the joke going.

You're doing such a good job with this prank it will go down in history. But goodbye. Stay, gentle Helena. Hear my excuse. My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!

Stay, sweet Helena. Listen to my excuse. My love, my life, my soul, beautiful Helena! Oh, excellent! If she cannot entreat, I can compel. 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.

Your threats aren't any stronger than her weak begging. Helena, I love you. On my life, I swear I do. I swear on my life, which I will risk by fighting this man to prove he's lying when he says that I don't love you. I say I love thee more than he can do. If thou say so, withdraw and prove it too. Quick, come. Lysander, whereto tends all this? No, no. Take on as you would follow, But yet come not.

You are a tame man, go! Go away! Vile thing, let loose Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent. Why are you grown so rude? What change is this, Sweet love? Thy love? Out, tawny Tartar, out!

O hated potion, hence! Your love? Get away from me, you dark-skinned Tartar! Get away, you disgusting poison. You hated potion, get away! Do you not jest? Yes, sooth, and so do you. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. I would I had your bond, for I perceive A weak bond holds you. I wish I had that in writing, because it seems to me that Hermia's rather weak arms somehow seem to be holding you back. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?

Should I hurt Hermia, hit her, kill her? Although I hate her, I'm not going to harm her. What, can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate 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 loved me. Yet since night you left me.

Why then, you left me—Oh, the gods forbid! What, do you think you could hurt me any more than by saying you hate me? Am I not Hermia? Are you not Lysander? You loved me last night. But last night you left me. So—God forbid—did you actually leave me? Ay, by my life, And never did desire to see thee more. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt. Be certain, nothing truer. Yes, I swear on my life that I did, and I never wanted to see you again.

So give up your hopes, your questions, and your doubts. You canker-blossom! You thief of love! Fine, i' faith! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie! You counterfeit, you puppet, you!

Really, honestly! Have you no modesty, no decency, not even a little bit of shame? What, do you want to make me mad enough that I'll respond to you, despite my usual gentleness? You disgust me! You liar, you doll! Why so? Ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures. She hath urged her height, And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevailed with him. And are you grown so high in his esteem Because I am so dwarfish and so low?

How low am I, thou painted maypole? How low am I? I am not yet so low But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. Ah, I see where you're taking this. So how short am I, you painted pole? Tell me. How short am I? I was never cursed. I have no gift at all in shrewishness. I am a right maid for my cowardice. Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, Because she is something lower than myself, That I can match her.

I've never been good at trading insults. You might be thinking that I could overpower her because she is somewhat shorter than me. Hark, again! Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.

I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wronged you— Save that, in love unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood. He followed you. For love I followed him. But he hath chid me hence and threatened me To strike me, spurn me—nay, to kill me too.

And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back And follow you no further. Let me go. You see how simple and how fond I am.

Hermia, I always loved you, and kept your secrets confidential. I never did anything to hurt you—other than, out of love for Demetrius, telling him about your plan to sneak into this forest. And I followed him, out of love. But he shouted at me to go away and threatened to hit me, kick me—and to kill me too. Why, get you gone! A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.

What, with Lysander? With Demetrius. Be not afraid. She shall not harm thee, Helena. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. She was a vixen when she went to school. And though she be but little, she is fierce. Oh, when she's angry, she gets vicious and mean. She was a hellcat when we were in school. Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Let me come to her. Let me at her! You are too officious In her behalf that scorns your services. Let her alone. Speak not of Helena.

Take not her part. For if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it. Leave Helena alone. Now she holds me not. Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. So follow me, if you dare, to find out through a duel which of us has more right to Helena.

You, mistress, all this coil is long of you. Nay, go not back. You, mistress, are the cause of all this fighting. No, don't walk away from me! I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray. My legs are longer though, to run away. I don't trust you. And I'm not going to stay anywhere near you.