Demetrius

 Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; 
For I am sick when I do look on thee.

do I not in plainest truth 
Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you?

I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, 
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.

Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? 
The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.

Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, 
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.

If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone.