TITANIA         But she, being mortal, of that boy did die,

And for her sake do I rear up her boy;

And for her sake, I will not part with him.

OBERON         How long within this wood intend you stay?

TITANIA         Perchance till after Theseus’ wedding day.

If you will patiently dance in our round

And see our moonlight revels, go with us;

If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.

OBERON         Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.

TITANIA         Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away.

We shall chide downright if I longer stay.

(Exeunt [Titania and her train, and Oberon’s train].)         (2.1.135-145)

But she, being mortal, of that boy did die: it’s as if the sun goes out on Titania’s beautiful evocation of her friend, the beach, the sea, a future full of possibility. She DIED; she wasn’t immortal, a fairy like you and me, she was human. I couldn’t save her; she died giving birth to her baby boy, this boy. (A scenario universally familiar to an early modern audience.) And for her sake do I rear up her boy; and for her sake, I will not part with him. The implication is, perhaps, of a promise made to the dead mother, beyond the bonds of friendship between the two women, oath and obligation, not ‘just’ kindness. I won’t give him up! I can’t!

Oberon seems to leave it—because he sees Titania is upset, adamant; because he’s regrouping? The enquiry could be loaded: how long within this wood intend you stay? Are you going to be here long? Oh, perchance till after Theseus’ wedding day. A few days, yes. This couple are—on the verge of permanent estrangement? but making the odd gesture towards reconciliation, politeness at least, not full-on fighting in front of the servants/children? (Although an early modern audience might be less struck by a royal couple having separate households, largely separate lives.) I mean, Oberon, if you will patiently dance in our round and see our moonlight revels, go with us: if you wanted to join in, you still could, so long as you play nicely; we’re going to dance, celebrate, have a bit of a festival in the woods for a few days? No pressure, though: if not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. We can just keep out of each other’s way, do our own thing. Room enough.

Oberon perhaps spots weakness? Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. It’s quite simple, hand him over, and I’ll join in alright, we can be together, dance, whatever. Not a chance, Titania wasn’t born yesterday, and these are old sparring partners: not for thy fairy kingdom. There’s NOTHING you can offer me that would make me give up this child. Fairies, away. We shall chide outright if I longer stay; this’ll get out of hand and we’ll both end up saying something we regret (although we could be a royal plural here, Titania gathering her dignity, leaving on the moral high ground). We’re off. Oberon and Puck remain; Titania and her fairies exit one way, Oberon’s the other, perhaps with a bit of drama between the two crews, eyes on you, watch yourselves…