HELENA         You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;

But yet you draw not iron, for my heart

Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw,

And I shall have no power to follow you.

DEMETRIUS   Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?

Or rather do I not in plainest truth

Tell you I do not, nor I cannot love you?     (2.1.195-201)

Oh Helena. In a kind of ecstasy of masochism, perhaps, high on her own daring in doing this, betraying her friend, and being alone with Demetrius in a forest in the middle of the night; surely he’ll pick up on the vibes and reciprocate her passion? (Or there can be a grudging note, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I can’t help it.) You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant, you’re like a MAGNET, irresistible, stony, absolute, but yet you draw not iron, for my heart is true as steel. I’m not just any old bit of scrap, my passion is genuine, my loyalty absolute. Look at what I’ve done for you! Leave you your power to draw, and I shall have no power to follow you. I can’t help myself, I can’t fight the hold you have over me! It’s like I’m ADDICTED! If you were less seductive, I’d be less seduced. Demetrius is understandably frustrated as well as unkind—this performance has been going on for some time, it seems: do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Am I giving you ANY encouragement, any indication at all that I want you tagging along like this? Am I saying nice things to you? No, I am not: or rather do I not in plainest truth tell you I do not, nor I cannot love you? I just don’t. I can’t. I can’t make it any more obvious, can’t tell you in any way that’s clearer. I DON’T LOVE YOU.