Helena Monologue
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Tags: shakespear

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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