There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here therefore for a while I will remain. So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe; Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. Lies down and sleeps.

What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite And laid the love-juice on some true-love’s sight: Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true love turn’d and not a false turn’d true.

Then fate o’er-rules, that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath.

About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find: All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: By some illusion see thou bring her here: I’ll charm his eyes against she do appear.