Lysander! On the ground! dead? Or asleep? I see no blood, no wound. Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.
Do not say so, Lysander; say not soWhat though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.
Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man
Content with Hermia! No; I do repent. The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Hermia but Helena I love
She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there: And never mayst thou come Lysander near!For as a surfeit of the sweetest thingsThe deepest loathing to the stomach brings,Or as tie heresies that men do leave. And, all my powers, address your love and mightTo honour Helen and to be her knight!
Hermia, in the distance waking up
Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord! What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?Alack, where are you speak, an if you hear; Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.No? then I well perceive you all not nigh. Either death or you I'll find immediately.