I love thee not; therefore pursue me not. Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? The one I'll stay; the other stayeth me. Thou told'st me they were stol'n unto this wood, And here I am, and wood within this wood. Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant! Bet yet you draw not iron, for my heart!Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you.
Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Or rather do I not in plainest truth- Tell you I do not, nor I cannot love you
And even for that do I love you the more. I am your spaniel,and, Demetrius, The more you beat me I will fawn on you. Use me but as your spaniel: spun me, strike me,
Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, For am I sick when I do look on these
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave (Unworthy as I am) to follow you. What worse place can I beg in your love ( And yet a place of high respectt with me) Than to be used as you use your dog?
And I am sick when I look not on you.
You do impeach your modesty too much. To leave the city and commit yourself into the hands of one that loves you not, To trust the opportunity of night and the ill counsel of a desert place with the rich worth of your virginity.
Your virtue is my privilege. For that it is not night when I do see your face, therefore I think I am not in the night. Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, for you, in my respect, are all the world. Then, how can it be said I am alone when all the world is here to look on me?
The wildest hath not such a heart as you, run when you will. The story shall be changed: Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind makes speed to catch the tiger. Bootless speed when cowardice pursues and valor flies!
I will not stay thy questions. Let me go, or if thou follow me, do not believe but I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes and leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts
Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, you do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex. We cannot fight for love as men may do. We should be wooed and where not made to woo.
I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell to die upon the hand I love so well.