Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong’d you; Save that, in love unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood. He follow’d you; for love I follow’d him; But he hath chid me hence and threaten’d me To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too: And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back And follow you no further: let me go: You see how simple and how fond I am.

O, when she’s angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.

“Little” again! nothing but “low” and “little”! Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Let me come to her.

Get you gone, you dwarf; You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made; You bead, you acorn.