Father

Father, I am true to mine love. I cannot marry someone I doth not love and thee cannot put thy daughter to death; doest this mean thee are pernicious enough to alloweth thy daughter kicketh the bucket?
I knoweth love oft seemeth doomed, coequal if ‘t be true it’s not actually doomed. Aye, love forsooth is light from heaven; a sort of that immortal fire. With angels shared, by Alla given, to lift from earth our base desire. Consequently, I am going to hold onto mine love no matter the circumstances or consequences.
Wherefore doest the Athenian law state that the father is the one who hath the final sayeth on who their children can marry? Aye, thee art right that we art to beest cautious with who we chooseth, as most people art not as those gents seemeth, but father, in this case, thee can see that I and Lysander love each other, art joyous together and thither is nothing to loseth. Love unbridled is a volcano that burns down and lays waste all around t: tis an abyss that devours all–honour, substance and health.
And father, what thee calleth witchcraft is very much true love, and at the same time tis like a madness that not coequal the most famous psychiatrists can doth anything about t; tis a madness, if ‘t be truly thwarted t developeth fast; t can groweth to a frenzy of despair and maketh an otherwise sane and highly given prince throweth hence the crown of an empire and snuff out his own life.
Some sayeth love, tis a river that drowns the tender reed. Some sayeth love, tis a razor that leaves thy soul to bleed. Some sayeth love, tis a hunger, an endless aching needeth. I sayeth love, tis a flower, and to me, Lysander its only seed. Because mine love, mine love is a deep blue sea, so deep, so deep that I’ll nev’r beest free. Father, I only request of one thing from thee: alloweth me beest free for who I chooseth to beest with.
So I am asking thee to alloweth me beest with Lysander, and Helena can beest with Demetrius. For mine friend’s sake, please alloweth me beest with Lysander, and I wilt beest eternally grateful, for true love is a lasting fire, which viewless vestals tend, that burns still in the soul, and knoweth no changeth, nor end.
So father, what is thy answer?