Identifier: comediesofwillia02shak (find matches)
Title: The comedies of William Shakespeare
Year: 1896 (1890s)
Authors: Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 Abbey, Edwin Austin, 1852-1911
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Publisher: New York : Harper and brothers
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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What though I be not so in grace as you.So hung upon with love, so fortunate.But miserable most, to love unloved ?This you should pity rather than despise. Her. I understand not what you mean by this. Hel. Ay, do, persevere, counterfeit sad looks.Make mouths-upon me when I turn my back;Wink at each other; hold the sweet jest up.This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.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. Lys. Stay, gentle Helena, hear my excuse;My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena! Hel. Oh, excellent! Her. Sweet, do not scorn her so. Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat;Thy threats have no more strength than her weakprayers. Plate 6WHY DO THEY RUN AWAY? Midsummer-Nights Dream, act iii.. scene i.
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v-^ A MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM 37 Helen, I love thee; by my life I do; I swear by that which I will lose for thee 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. Dcm. Quick, come. Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this ? Lys. Away, you Ethiop ! Dejti. No, no, sir,—he will Seem to break loose; take on, as you would follow,But yet come not. You are a tame man, go! Lys. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr; vile thing, letloose,Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent. Her. Why are you grown so rude.? what change Is this.Sweet love) Lys. Thy love ) out, tawny Tartar, out! Out, loathed medicine ! Oh, hated potion, hence ! Her. Do you not jest .f* Hel. Yes, sooth ; and so do you. Lys. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. Dem. I w^ould I had your bond; for I perceiveA weak bond holds you; Ill not trust your word. Lys. What! should I hurt her,strike her,kill her dead?Although I hate her, Ill not harm he

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