I will not stay thy questions; let me go: Or, if thou follow me, do not believe But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.

Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex: We cannot fight for love, as men may do; We should be woo’d and were not made to woo. Exit Demetrius . I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well. Exit.

Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove, Thou shalt fly him and he shall seek thy love.