i’ faith!
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you!
Her.
“Puppet”? Why so? Ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures: she hath urg’d her height,
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail’d with him.
And are you grown so high in his esteem,
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak!
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
Hel.
I pray you, though you mock me, [gentlemen],
Let her not hurt me. I was never curst;
I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
I am a right maid for my cowardice.
Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
Because she is something lower than myself,
That I can match her.
Her.
“Lower”? hark again.
Hel.
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
I evermore did love you, Hermia,
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong’d you;
Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
He followed you; for love I followed him.
But he hath chid me hence, and threat’ned me
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too.
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
To Athens will I bear my folly back,
And follow you no further. Let me go.
You see how simple and how fond I am.
Her.
Why, get you gone. Who is’t that hinders you?
Hel.
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
Her.
What, with Lysander?
Hel.
With Demetrius.
Lys.
Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
Dem.
No, sir; she shall not, though you take her part.
Hel.
O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd!
She was a vixen when she went to school;
And though she be but little, she is fierce.
Her.
“Little” again? Nothing but ‘low’ and ‘little’?
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her.
Lys.
Get you gone, you dwarf;
You minimus, of hind’ring knot-grass made;
You bead, you acorn.
Dem.
You are too officious
In her behalf that scorns your services.
Let her alone; speak not of Helena,
Take not her part. For if thou dost intend
Never so little show of love to her,
Thou shalt aby it.
Lys.
Now she holds me not;
Now follow, if thou dar’st, to try whose right,
Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
Dem.
Follow? Nay; I’ll go with thee, cheek by jowl.
[Exeunt Lysander and Demetrius.]
Her.
You, mistress, all this coil is long of you.
Nay, go not back.
Hel.
I will not trust you, I,
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray;
My legs are longer though, to run away.
[Exit.]
Her.
I am amaz’d, and know not what to say.
Exit.
Obe.
This is thy negligence. Still thou mistak’st,
Or
