A midsummer's night dream 2
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You speak not as you think. It cannot be.
Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, Fair Helena, who more engilds the night. The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so?
I say I love thee more than he can do.
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
Stya, gentle Helena. Hear my excuse. My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena.
Ay, do. Preserve, counterfeit sad looks, make mouths upon me when I turn my back.
Now she holds me not. Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
"Follow"? Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl.
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