You are within his power
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman
So is Lysander.
But in this kind, wanting your father’s voice, the pother must be held the worthier
I would my father looked but with with my eyes
Rather your eyes must with his judgment look!
But I beseech your grace that I may know the worst that may befall me in this case, if I refuse to wed Demetrius
Examine whether, if you yeild not to your father’s choice, you can endure the livery of a nun.
So will I die my lord
Ere I will yield unto his lordship
Whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty
How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
Belike for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
But either is was different in blood-
O cross! To high to be inthralled too low
Or else misgraffed in respect of years
O spite! too old to be engaged too young
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends
Ohell, to choose love by another’s eyes!
So quick bright things come to confusion
If then true lovers have been ever crossed it stands as an edict in destiny. Then let us teach our trials patience, because it is a customary cross.
And in the woods, a league without the town, there will I stay with thee
My good Lysander, I swear to thee by cupid’s strongest bow, by all the vows that ever men have broke, In number more than ever women spoke, In that same place thou hast appointed me, tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.
Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena
God speed, fair Helena! Wither away?
O, teach me how you look, and with what art you sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart
I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
O that my prayers could such affection move!
The more I hate, the more he follows me.
The more I love, the more he hateth me.
His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine
None but your beauty: would that fault be mine!
Take comfort: he no more shall see my face; Lysander and myself shall flee this place
Through Athens’ gates have we devised to steal
And in the wood, there often you and I
Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, There my Lysander and myself shall meet; And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, To seek new friends and stranger companies. Farewell sweet playfellow: Pray thou for us; And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight From lover’s food till morrow deep midnight.
