How happy some o'er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know:
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vile, folding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child, 
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. 
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, 
So the boy Love is perjured every where: 
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, 
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; 
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, 
So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt. 
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: 
Then to the wood will he to-morrow night 
Pursue her; and for this intelligence 
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: 
But herein mean I to enrich my pain, 
To have his sight thither and back again.


final da primeira cena de Sonho de uma noite de verão
Shakespeare, 1595

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