And Love doesn't have good judgment or taste-wings and blindness make for undue speed in falling in love. That's why they paint winged Cupid blind. Love doesn't look with eyes, but with the mind. Love can transform crude and horrible things of no worth into beautiful and dignified things. And as he wanders, idolizing Hermia's eyes, likewise I admire his beauty. But what does that matter? Demetrius doesn't think so. How happy some people can be compared to others! Throughout Athens, people think I'm as beautiful as Hermia. But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again. And for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense. Then to the wood will he tomorrow night Pursue her. I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight. And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt. For ere Demetrius looked on Hermia's eyne, He hailed down oaths that he was only mine. As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, So the boy Love is perjured everywhere. And therefore is Love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste- Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind. Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, So I, admiring of his qualities. He will not know what all but he do know. But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so. How happy some o'er other some can be! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. Since she belongs to me, I can do what I want with her, as the law expressly states for just such a case as this: either she marries Demetrius, or she dies. My gracious duke, if Hermia, standing here in front of you, won’t agree to marry Demetrius, then I demand my traditional rights as a father in Athens. You’ve sneaked and schemed to steal my daughter’s heart, transforming the obedience which she owes me into harsh stubbornness. And you’ve stolen her fancy by giving her locks of your hair, rings, toys, trinkets, knickknacks, little presents, flowers, and candies-all of which will powerfully influence an innocent child.
You’ve come beneath her window in the moonlight and pretended to love her with your fake love songs. You, you, Lysander, you have given her poems, and exchanged tokens of love with my daughter. Yet, my gracious duke, this man, Lysander, has put a spell on my daughter’s heart. My noble lord Theseus, this man, Demetrius, has my blessing to marry her.
I’ve come to you full of anger, to protest against the actions of my daughter, Hermia. 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. 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. With cunning hast thou filched my daughter’s heart, Turned her obedience (which is due to me) To stubborn harshness. Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung With feigning voice verses of feigning love, And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gauds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats-messengers Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth. Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchanged love tokens with my child. And my gracious duke, This man hath bewitched the bosom of my child.
My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her. Full of vexation come I with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia.