LYSANDER     I will, my Hermia. Helena, adieu.

As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. (Exit.)

HELENA         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.          (1.1.224-231)

I will, my Hermia, I’ll be there, and I’ll keep my promises! says Lysander. What could possibly go wrong, after so straightforward a statement? Helena, adieu—and this can be loaded, don’t you DARE tell anyone, I don’t trust you, even, I’ve never liked you much. As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. A pat couplet: well, we’re out of here, hope that maybe now Demetrius might love you back! Byeee!

Helena can well be sympathised with after that leave-taking, for all her obsession and self-pity. How happy some o’er other some can be! Look, isn’t it amazing, they’ve got each other, they’ve found each other, they’ve got everything they want, and they’re content! Lucky them! Residual petulance, or resignation: through Athens I am thought as fair as she, I am, I really am! But what of that? So BLOODY what, because Demetrius thinks not so, and he’s the only one whose opinion matters, he’s the only one I really want to like me, to think I’m pretty. But he will not know what all but he do know, he won’t concede that I’m actually not half bad, quite a catch. He’s so stubborn… And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes, fawning on her, moping around, waiting for the least sign of her favour, a glance, a look—so I, admiring of his qualities. I’m just as bad. In fact I’m WORSE. I turn into a complete IDIOT in his presence.