"Call you me fair? That fair again unsay. 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, when wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching: O, were favour so, yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go; my ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, my tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, the rest I'd give to be to you translated. O, teach me how you look, and with what art you sway the motion of Demetrius' heart."

"You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; but yet you draw not iron, for my heart is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, and I shall have no power to follow you."

"O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent, to set against me for your merriment: if you we re civil and knew courtesy, you would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, but you must join in souls to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show, you would not use a gentle lady so; to vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, when I am sure you hate me with your hearts. You both are rivals, and love Hermia; and now both rivals, to mock Helena: a trim exploit, a manly enterprise, to conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes, with your derision! None of noble sort would so offend a virgin, and extort a poor soul's patience, all to make you sport."