Theseus: Our wedding day is almost here! We’ll be getting married in four days, on the day of the new moon. But it seems to me that the days are passing too slowly
Hippolyta: four days will quickly turn into four nights. And the new moon, curved like a silver bow in the sky, will look down on our wedding celebration.
Theseus: Go, Philostrate, get the young people of Athens ready to celebrate and have a good time.
Philostrate: Yes Sir
Theseus: Thanks, good Egeus. What’s new with you?
Egeus: I have an Issue...
Egeus: I’m here, full of anger, to complain about my daughter Hermia.—Step forward, Demetrius.—My lord, this man, Demetrius, has my permission to marry her.
Egeus: Step forward, Lysander.—But this other man, Lysander, has cast a magic spell over my child’s heart.—You, you, Lysander, you’ve given her poems, and exchanged tokens of love with my daughter
Egeus: What do you have to say for yourself, Hermia? Think carefully, pretty girl. You should think of your father as a god, since he’s the one who gave you your beauty. To him, you’re like a figure that he’s sculpted out of wax, and he has the power to keep that figure intact or to disfigure it. Demetrius is an admirable man.
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