1 You have her father's love, Demetrius.
2 It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
3 The more I love, the more he hateth me.
4 I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
5 Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste.
6 A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love.
7 Do it for thy true love take; Love and languish for his sake.
8 Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity In least speak most to my capacity.
9 Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity.
10 And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.
11 As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, So the boy Love is perjur'd everywhere.
12 Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.
13 Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love; And what is mine my love shall render him; And she is mine, and all my right of her I do estate unto Demetrius.
14 Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.
15 Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers.
16 Things growing are not ripe until their season; So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; And touching now the point of human skill, Reason becomes the marshal to my will, And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook Love's stories, written in love's richest book.
17 Take time to pause; and by the next new moon The sealing-day betwixt my love and me For everlasting bond of fellowship, Upon that day either prepare to die For disobedience to your father's will, Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would, Or on Diana's altar to protest For aye austerity and single life.
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