HERMIA         I would my father looked but with my eyes.

THESEUS        Rather your eyes must with his judgement look.

HERMIA         I do entreat your grace to pardon me.

I know not by what power I am made bold,

Nor how it may concern my modesty

In such a presence here to plead my thoughts,

But I beseech your grace that I may know

The worst that may befall me in this case

If I refuse to wed Demetrius.            (1.1.56-64)

I would my father looked but with my eyes, exactly how people feel when their parents, or their best friends, doubt their choice of partner. If only you could see what I see in them! (And it’s the first instance in the play of the strong connection between love and sight, and what it means to look through some else’s eyes.) Hermia can look at Lysander as she says it, with simple desperation, and he can look as despairingly back at her—a contrast, perhaps, to the dynamic between Theseus and Hippolyta. Theseus is admonitory, but still quite low-key: rather your eyes must with his judgement look. That’s what I’ve just been explaining; what you think and feel doesn’t matter here. It’s your father’s call.

So Hermia screws up her courage, is scrupulously polite. I do entreat your grace to pardon me—in advance of what I’m about to say, how I’m going to act. Deep breath, and then she builds up to asking the big question. I know not by what power I am made bold—yes, I know I’m being bold, I don’t know where I’m getting the courage—and I realise that this is all calling my virtuous reputation into question, how it may concern my modesty in such a presence here to plead my thoughts—in front of all these people, not just Theseus)—but (now she comes to it) I beseech your grace that I may know the worst that may befall me in this case if I refuse to wed Demetrius. What’ll happen to me if I say no, really? How bad will it be?