DEMETRIUS [to Helena] I say, I love thee more than he can do.
LYSANDER [to Demetrius] If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
DEMETRIUS Quick, come.
HERMIA Lysander, whereto tends all this?
LYSANDER Away, you Ethiop.
DEMETRIUS [to Hermia] No, no: he’ll seem
To break loose, take on as you would follow,
But yet come not. [to Lysander] You are a tame man, go.
LYSANDER Hang off, thou cat, thou burr, vile thing let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent.
HERMIA Why are you grown so rude? What change is this,
Sweet love?
LYSANDER Thy love? Out, tawny Tartar, out!
Out, loathed medicine; O hated potion, hence. (3.2.254-265)
It’s getting increasingly HEATED: I say, I love thee more than he can do, protests Demetrius to Helena, anything he can do, I can do better! Yes I can! Alright, big man, retorts Lysander, before Helena has even a chance to squeak in protest: if thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. Come and have a go, let’s settle this once and for all. OK then, responds Demetrius (Helena apparently forgotten), you’re on, quick, come. Hermia’s baffled: Lysander, whereto tends all this?What’s going ON, you’re not really going to fight him, are you? Oh yes I am, snarls Lysander, in nastily racist language: Away, you Ethiop! (This passage is key evidence for the suggestion that the actor playing Hermia was brunette and perhaps olive-skinned—no evidence for a Black boy actor in the company—and, as will shortly be seen, SHORT.) She might be restraining Lysander physically by this point, as suggested by Demetrius’s sneer: no, no: he’ll seem to break loose—he’ll give the impression of doing his best to get away, take on as you would follow, but yet come not. He’s a coward, he’s using you as an excuse not to fight me! Even if he gets out of your clutches and comes after me as if afraid you’ll catch him again, he’s not going to. Big SISSY! You are a tame man, go, he taunts Lysander, look at you, allowing yourself to be held back by a GIRL! Lysander is, in fact, trying to get free, but Hermia is making it very difficult indeed (in some productions she’s jumped on his back): hang off, thou cat, thou burr, vile thing let loose, or I will shake thee from me like a serpent. Let me GO! get OFF me, stop STICKING to me, I warn you… Hermia’s angry, perplexed, hurt, but still trying to mollify him, as if he’s crazed, misguided, simply putting it on: why are you grown so rude? What change is this, sweet love? Darling, what’s the MATTER, why are you behaving like this, why are you being so cruel, so NASTY and HURTFUL? And Lysander flips: thy love? REALLY? is that what you still think I am? Out, tawny Tartar, out! (He has a disappointingly small range of insults, playground at best, and here, again, racist.) Out, loathed medicine; O hated poison, hence. I used to love you as something essential to my life, my health, but now that’s become hateful to me, a deadly poison rather than a sweet cordial. (Lysander’s right about one thing at least: it’s all about the drugs…) And Helena has said not a word.
