Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!

Why are you grown so rude? what change is this, Sweet love⁠—

Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out! Out, loathèd medicine! hated potion, hence!

I would I had your bond, for I perceive A weak bond holds you: I’ll not trust your word.

What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I hate her, I’ll not harm her so.

What, can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love! Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander? I am as fair now as I was erewhile. Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me: Why, then you left me⁠—O, the gods forbid!⁠— In earnest, shall I say?