“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 ay do; We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.”

“We cannot fight for love as men may do; We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.”

“I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,To die upon the hand I love so well.”

“I do love thee so, That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven”

“You have her father's love, Demetrius;Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.”

“O all you host of heaven!O Earth! waht else?And shall i couple hell? O Fie! Hold, hold, my heartAnd you, my sinews, grow not instant old,But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee?Ay, thou poor ghost, while memmory holds a seatIn this distracted globe. Remember thee?Yea, from the table of my memoryI'll wipe away all trivial fond records,All saws of books, all forms, all pressures pastThat youth and observation copied there,And thy commandment all alone shall liveWithin the book and volume of my brain,Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven!”

“Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?SAMPSON [Aside to Gregory]: Is the law of our side, if I say ay?GREGORY [Aside to Sampson]: No.SAMPSON: No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir.”