A Midsommer nightes dreame.
753728What wicked and di
ssembling gla
sse, of mine,
754729Made me compare with
Hermias sphery eyen!
755730But, who is here?
Lysander, on the ground?
756731Dead, or a
sleepe? I
see no blood, no wound.
757732Lysander, if you liue, good
sir awake.
758733Lys. And runne through
fire, I will for thy
sweete
sake.
759734Tran
sparent
Helena, nature
shewes arte,
760735That through thy bo
some, makes me
see thy heart.
761736Where is
Demetrius? Oh how
fit a word
762737Is that vile name, to peri
sh on my
sworde!
763738Hel. Do not
say
so,
Lysander,
say not
so.
764739What though he loue your
Hermia? Lord, what though?
765740Yet
Hermia still loues you: then be content.
766741Lys. Content with
Hermia? No: I doe repent
767742The tedious minutes, I with her haue
spent.
768743Not
Hermia, but
Helena I loue.
769744VVho will not change a Rauen for a doue?
770745The will of man is by his rea
son
swai'd:
771746And rea
son
saies you are the worthier maide.
772747Things growing are not ripe, vntill their
sea
son:
773748So I, being young, till now ripe not to rea
son.
774749And touching now, the point of humane
skill,
775750Rea
son becomes the Mar
shall to my will,
776751And leads mee to your eyes; where I orelooke
777752Loues
stories, written in loues riche
st booke.
778753Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne?
779754When, at your hands, did I de
serue this
scorne?
780755I
st not enough, i
st not enough, young man,
781756That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,
782757De
serue a
sweete looke from
Demetrius eye,
783758But you mu
st flout my in
su
fficiency?
784759Good troth you doe mee wrong (good
sooth you doe)
785760In
such di
sdainfull manner, mee to wooe.
786761But, fare you well: perforce, I mu
st confe
sse,
787762I thought you Lord of more true gentlene
sse.
O,