THESEUS 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.
HERMIA So is Lysander.
THESEUS In himself he is;
But in this kind, wanting your father’s voice,
The other must be held the worthier. (1.1.46-55)
So Theseus weighs in, not without bias, but at least addressing Hermia directly, rather than answering her father. What say you, Hermia? It’s less a request for her views than ‘how do you plead?’, especially with his qualifier: be advised, fair maid. Take care, be judicious in your response; listen to me. And he’s not letting her speak yet, but rather making crystal clear the patriarchal world in which she lives; he is perhaps speaking as much to Hippolyta as to Hermia and Egeus. To you your father should be as a god, one that composed your beauties. Your father made you, and you are quite literally his creature, his possession. You should honour him (and although this is a notionally pagan setting, the 10 Commandments are of course present here: Honour thy father and thy mother). Theseus elaborates even further: yea, your father is one to whom you are but as a form in wax, by him imprinted. You are stamped with his mark; he has given you your identity, which is, his. (Classical ideas about reproduction: women provided matter, men spirit; the male principle was the active ingredient in conception. But also an interesting marker in the first moments of the play, of the malleability, the impressionability of identity, of minds and bodies.) You have no agency of your own, Theseus tells Hermia, your father is in charge of you, and within his power to leave the figure—the impression in wax, like a word written on a wax tablet, or a seal pressed into soft wax—or disfigure it. He made you; he can break you. He has absolute power over you.
After that bit of terrifying power-play—again perhaps aimed more at Hippolyta than Hermia, because in early modern terms, to marry is to pass directly from control of father to control of husband; Theseus is indirectly describing the power of a husband over a wife—he returns more specifically to the matter before them, and in what might seem a slightly more conciliatory tone. Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. Statement of fact, probably; he’s a catch, you’re not being married off to a miser twice your age, or an apparent madman (as in Shrew). Hermia’s response is the obvious one: so is Lysander. It’s not a question of status; Lysander’s of the same standing as Demetrius, a gentleman. He’s a good catch too. But Theseus springs the trap he’s set, oh, in himself he is. That’s not what’s moot here, no one’s disputing that Lysander’s not a good chap. (Egeus is, a bit.) The point is, in this kind, wanting your father’s voice, the other must be held the worthier. What makes the difference here is that your father prefers Demetrius. That’s the only thing that matters, that’s what tips the balance. (If Lysander and Demetrius look similar, the point is made even more sharply.)
