Full of vexation come I, with complaint

Against my child, my daughter Hermia.

Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord,

This man hath my consent to marry her.

Stand forth, Lysander. And my gracious Duke,

This man hath bewitch’d the bosom of my child.

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,

And interchanged love-tokens with my child:

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 unharden’d youth):

With cunning hast thou filch’d my daughter’s heart,

Turn’d 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: