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A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM
47
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul! she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe.
When thou wakest, let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid:
So awake when I am gone;
For I must now to Oberon. [Exit.
Enter Demetrius and Helena, running.
Helena.
Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
Demetrius.
I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
Helena.
O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.
Demetrius.
Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. [Exit.
Helena.
O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
