HELENA         Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?

When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?

Is’t not enough, is’t not enough, young man,

That I did never, no nor never can

Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius’ eye,

But you must flout my insufficiency?

Good troth, you do me wrong; good sooth, you do,

In such disdainful manner me to woo.

But fare you well. Perforce I must confess

I thought you lord of more true gentleness.

O that a lady of one man refused

Should of another therefore be abused! (Exit.)      (2.2.127-138)

Why me? What have I done to deserve this? Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? It’s not FAIR, protests Helena. All she can imagine is that Lysander is making fun of her, again, and she’s had enough. Is’t not enough, is’t not enough, young man, that I did never, no nor never can deserve a sweet look from Demetrius’ eye, but you must flout my insufficiency? I’m already having to deal with the fact that He doesn’t treat me at all well, let alone love me back, and now here you are mocking me too! Good troth, you do me wrong; good sooth, you do, in such disdainful manner me to woo. You’re behaving very badly, insulting me, hurting my feelings, using such—language. Pretending to ‘love’ me. But fare you well: I don’t have to stay and listen to this. I’m disappointed in you, Lysander, I thought you were better than that: perforce I must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness. You’re behaving most dishonourably. O that a lady of one man refused should of another therefore be abused! Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, rejected by one man, mocked by another. I think I’m allowed to feel just a little sorry for myself, yes? And I’m OUT of here!