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Not Hermia, but Helena I love: Who will not change a raven for a dove?
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there; And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord!
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, and kill me too.
Oh, why do you rebuke a man who loves you so?
You spend your passion on a misprised mood. I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; nor is he dead that I can tell.
I pray thee tell me then that he is well.
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