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Lysander

She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there
And never mayst thou come Lysander near.
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings;
Or as the heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive;
So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
Of all be hated, but the most of me.
And all my powers, address your love and might
To honor Helen and to be her knight.

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