Helena O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment. If you were civil and knew courtesy, You would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me — as I know you do — But you must join in souls to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle lady so, To vow and swear and superpraise my parts When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. You both are rivals and love Hermia, And now both rivals to mock Helena. A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes With your derision. None of noble sort Would so offend a virgin, and extort A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. Read more about Act 3, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: "conjure"
Demetrius O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealèd white, high Taurus’ snow Fanned with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold'st up thy hand. O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! Read more about Act 3, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: “high Taurus’ snow”
Lysander Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears. Look, when I vow I weep, and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true? Helena You do advance your cunning more and more When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray! These vows are Hermia's. Will you give her o'er ? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh; Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh – and both as light as tales. Read more about Act 3, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: "will even weigh"
Lysander Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears. Look, when I vow I weep, and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true? Helena You do advance your cunning more and more When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray! These vows are Hermia's. Will you give her o'er ? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh; Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh – and both as light as tales. Read more about Act 3, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: “devilish holy fray”
Oberon About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find. All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear. By some illusion see thou bring her here. I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. Read more about Act 3, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: “costs the fresh blood dear”
Demetrius There is no following her in this fierce vein. Here therefore for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe, Which now in some slight measure it will pay If, for his tender, here I make some stay. Read more about Act 3, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: "his tender"
Demetrius O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Hermia Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse, For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep And kill me too. The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me. Would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole earth may be bored, and that the moon May through the center creep, and so displease Her brother's noon-tide with th' Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murdered him. So should a murderer look: so dead, so grim. Read more about Act 3, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: “This whole earth may be bored”
Demetrius O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Hermia Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse, For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep And kill me too. Read more about Act 3, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: “Being o’er shoes in blood”
Titania The moon, methinks, looks with a wat’ry eye, And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforcèd chastity. Read more about Act 3, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: "wat'ry eye"
Bottom acquaintance too — Your name, I beseech you, sir? Mustardseed Mustardseed. Bottom Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well. That same cowardly giantlike ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed. Read more about Act 3, Scene 1: Popup Note Index Item: "made my eyes water"
