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stay, on your peril; for i will go
O, i am out of breath in this fond chase!
And run through fire I will for your sweet sake.
That through your breasts makes me see your heart. where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word Is that vile names to perish on my sword
Do not say so, Lysander; say not so. What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.
Content with Hermia! No; I do repent the tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Hermia but Helena I love.
Why was I born into this keen mockery
Hermia, sleep right there.
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