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Demetrius, I’ll avouch it to his head, Made love to Nedar’s daughter, Helena, 110 And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
Demetrius, you bastard...
My good Lysander! I swear to thee by Cupid’s strongest bow, By his best arrow, with the golden head, By the simplicity of Venus’ doves, 175 By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, And by that fire which burn’d the Carthage queen, When the false Trojan under sail was seen,— By all the vows that ever men have broke, In number more than ever women spoke,— 180 In that same place thou hast appointed me, Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee.
Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear; Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear. No?—then I well perceive you are not nigh: 155 Either death or you I’ll find immediately.
"Either death or you, I'll find immediately."
