What’s this to my Lysander? Where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
65 Out, dog! Out, cur! Thou drivest me past the bounds Of maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him then Henceforth be never numbered among men! Oh, once tell true, tell true even for my sake— Durst thou have looked upon him being awake, 70 And hast thou killed him sleeping? O brave touch!Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? An adder did it, for with doubler tongueThan thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
You spend your passion on a misprized mood. I am not guilty of Lysander’s blood. Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.