Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Hell. To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes,
Hell. With your derision; none of noble sort,
Hell. Would so offend a Virgin, and extort
Hell. A poore soules patience, all to make you sport.
Lysa. Lysa.
Lysa. You are vnkind Demetrius; be not so,
Lysa. For you loue Hermia; this you know I know;
Lysa. And here with all good will, with all my heart,
Lysa. In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part;
Lysa. And yours of Helena, to me bequeath,
Lysa. Whom I do loue, and will do to my death.
Hel. Hel.
Hel. Neuer did mockers wast more idle breth.
Dem. Dem.
Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none:
Dem. If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone.
Dem. My heart to her, but as guest‑wise soiourn'd,
Dem. And now to Helen it is home return'd,
Dem. There to remaine.
Lys. Lys.