Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this?
Lys. Away, you Ethiope
Dem. No, no, Sir, seeme to breake loose;
Take on as you would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go
Lys. Hang off thou cat, thou bur; vile thing let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent
Her. Why are you growne so rude?
What change is this sweete Loue?
Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out;
Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence
Her. Do you not iest?
Hel. Yes sooth, and so do you