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And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
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 unlov’d? This you should pity, rather than despise.
Her. I understand not what you mean by this.
Hel. Ay, do, persever 43, 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.
Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse;
Hel. O excellent!
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
Dem. I say, I love thee more than he can do.
Lysander, whereto tends all this?
No, no, sir: he will 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! Her. Do you not jest?
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?
Ay, by my life:
Her. O mel you juggler! you canker-blossom!
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! · Her. Puppet? why so? Ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures, she hath urg'd her height; And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.
Imfie! you co why so? Ay, made comp
ow 1 percepet? why so?, you puppet,gue?
And are you grown so high in his esteem,
Hel. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,
Lower! hark, again.
Her. Why, get you gone: Whois't that hinders you?
Dem. No, sir; she shall not, though you take her
Her. Little again? nothing but low and little?
Get you gone, you dwarf;
You are too officious,
Now she holds me not;
[Exeunt Lys. and Dem. Her. You, mistress, all this coil is ’long of you: Nay, go not back. Hel.
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. [Exit. Her. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say.
[Exit, pui suing Helena.