Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats—messengers Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth. With cunning hast thou filched my daughter’s heart, Turned her obedience (which is due to me) To stubborn harshness.—And, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your grace Consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens. As she is mine, I may dispose of her— Which shall be either to this gentleman Or to her death—according to our law Immediately provided in that case.
What say you, Hermia? Be advised, fair maid: To you your father should be as a god, One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted and within his power To leave the figure or disfigure it. Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, Ere I will yield my virgin patent up Unto his lordship, whose unwishèd yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
Take time to pause, and by the next new moon— The sealing day betwixt my love and me For everlasting bond of fellowship— Upon that day either prepare to die For disobedience to your father’s will, Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would, Or on Diana’s altar to protest For aye austerity and single life.
Relent, sweet Hermia—And, Lysander, yield Thy crazèd title to my certain right.
You have her father’s love, Demetrius. Let me have Hermia’s. Do you marry him.
Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love, And what is mine my love shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her I do estate unto Demetrius.