Claude Monet La Japonaise painting
Pablo Picasso The Old Guitarist painting
She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there:And never mayst thou come Lysander near!For as a surfeit of the sweetest thingsThe deepest loathing to the stomach brings,Or as tie heresies that men do leaveAre hated most of those they did deceive,So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,Of all be hated, but the most of me!And, all my powers, address your love and mightTo honour Helen and to be her knight!
[Exit]
HERMIA
[Awaking]
Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy bestTo pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here!Lysander, look how I do quake with fear:Methought a serpent eat my heart away,And you sat smiling at his cruel pray.Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord!What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?Alack, where are you speak, an if you hear;Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.No? then I well perceive you all not nighEither death or you I'll find immediately.
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