PUCK  The king doth keep his revels here tonight.

Take heed the queen come not within his sight;

For Oberon is passing fell and wrath

Because that she, as her attendant, hath

A lovely boy stolen, from an Indian king:

She never had so sweet a changeling.

And jealous Oberon would have the child

Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild.

But she perforce withholds the loved boy,

Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy.

And now, they never meet in grove or green,

By fountain clear or spangled starlight sheen,

But they do square, that all their elves, for fear,

Creep into acorn cups and hide them there.           (2.1.18-31)

Puck’s got a comeback, and he’s not going to be spoken to like that: the king doth keep his revels here tonight (the first time a king’s been mentioned). Take heed the queen come not within his sight, when he’s here—dancing? partying? Keep her out of his way, alright? So, a pair of royal fairies—a couple, implicitly—who have fallen out, with rival courts. For Oberon (the first name that’s been given) is passing fell and wrath because that she, as her attendant, hath a lovely boy stolen, from an Indian king. (The placement of the comma is crucial: was the boy stolen more generally, or did the queen herself steal him?) They’re fighting over a child? a kind of trophy servant, or something more? This child is other, ‘exotic’; she never had so sweet a changeling, even though she’s stolen lots of human children before, might be the implication. And jealous Oberon would have the child knight of his train, to trace the forests wild. He wants him as a page, a squire, a little knight, to hunt, to range by night. He wants this boy part of his crew! But she perforce withholds the loved boy, crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy. There’s the suggestion that the queen is treating the child as a feminine plaything, a doll even, while Oberon wants to train him up in manly fairy arts. What matters most is that they’ve fallen out over it, because now, they never meet in grove nor green, by fountain clear or spangled starlight sheen, among the trees, in the clearings, by springs, or by starlight (and it’s a play of shadow and sparkle, reflection and dazzle; it’s making the forest, making the night) but they do square. They just quarrel, squabble, spar, every time they meet, that all their elves, for fear, creep into acorn cups and hide them there. This quarrel over a child is scaring their fairies, who here sound like the children the royal fairy couple have already, trying to block out the sound of their parents fighting. Tiny fairies again, smaller than acorns, but a human touch, these frightened, cowed children, as here the grown-ups go again…

I love that this is a fourteen-line unit; it’s not a sonnet, quite, but it unfolds with impeccable sonnet logic, in its clever exposition of the situation, a sort-of octave-sestet division, and a little volta to the couplet, as the scale changes from angry parents arguing over a child from across the sea, wherever India is imagined as being here, to the tiny, homely acorn.