Dialectical Journal About Hermia

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Dear journal, July 9, 1590 Does she hate me? Does she not have any sympathy for my lonely heart? Fair Hermia… Towards me, Hermia is like a beautiful flower that bleeds poison. It was truly heart-breaking to hear her voice that odiously sang, “So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, Ere I will yield my virgin patent up Unto his lordship” (1.1.79-81). How could she ever remark such bold words from her lips that she would choose to grow and to live a single life, or to die, than to marry me? Loving Hermia feels so tender and warm, but why is it always so painful and distressful? That Lysander, the devil who stole Hermia’s heart with bewitched “knacks, trifles, nosegays” and “sweetmeats”

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