Hel. Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mouths upon me when I turn my back;
Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up:
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.240
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But, fare ye well: 'tis partly mine own fault,
Which death or absence soon shall remedy.244
Lys. Stay, gentle Helena! hear my excuse:
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!
Hel. O excellent!
Her.Sweet, do not scorn her so.
Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel.248
Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat:
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.
Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do:
I swear by that which I will lose for thee,252
To prove him false that says I love thee not.
Dem. I say I love thee more than he can do.
Lys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
Dem. Quick, come!
Her.Lysander, whereto tends all this?
Lys. Away, you Ethiop!
Dem.No, no, he'll . . .257
Seem to break loose; take on, as you would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go!
Lys. [To Hermia.] Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose,260
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent.
Her. Why are you grown so rude? what change is this?
Sweet love,—
237 sad: serious
239 hold . . . up: carry . . . on
242 argument: subject (of merriment)
257 Cf. n.
