In number more than ever women spoke,
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
Lys. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.
Enter Helena.
[180] Her. God speed fair Helena! whither away?
Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
[182] Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue’s sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd’s ear.