LYSANDER.
Away, you Ethiope!
DEMETRIUS.
No, no. He will
Seem to break loose. Take on as you would follow,
But yet come not. You are a tame man, go!
LYSANDER.
Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! Vile thing, let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent.
HERMIA.
Why are you grown so rude? What change is this,
Sweet love?
LYSANDER.
Thy love? Out, tawny Tartar, out!
Out, loathèd medicine! O hated potion, hence!
HERMIA.
Do you not jest?
HELENA.
Yes, sooth, and so do you.
LYSANDER.
Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
DEMETRIUS.
I would I had your bond; for I perceive
A weak bond holds you; I’ll not trust your word.
LYSANDER.
What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, I’ll not harm her so.