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  • Helena Monologue O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!<br /> The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.<br /> Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies;<br /> For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. <br /> How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears:<br /> If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers.<br /> No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;<br /> For beasts that meet me run away for fear:<br /> Therefore no marvel though Demetrius <br /> Do, as a monster fly my presence thus.<br /> What wicked and dissembling glass of mine<br /> Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?<br /> But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!<br /> Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.<br /> Lysander if you live, good sir, awake.
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