Page:A Midsummer-Nights Dream (Rackham).djvu/31

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I give him curses, yet he gives me love.

O that my prayers could such affection move!

The more I hate, the more he follows me.

The more I love, the more he hateth me.

His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.

None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!

Take comfort: he no more shall see my face;

Lysander and myself will fly this place.

Before the time I did Lysander see,

Seem’d Athens as a paradise to me:

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,

That he hath turn’d a heaven unto a hell!

Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:

To-morrow night, when Phœbe doth behold