A Midsummer Night's Sport

In which Oberon, Puck, and Titania make good use of their time and pass a pleasurable hour. Written for the Yuletide 2014 challenge, for Culumacilinte

That The Laughing Phoenix is living means she is not Shakespeare. She is inordinately proud of this but make no profit.

[Curtain rises on room with divan. Enter OBERON and PUCK.]

OBERON: Come, my sweet spirit, kneel thou there.

I have in mind some further plot.

With which we'll take our pleasure

This summer's eve, and would thy aid.

PUCK: An so my lord

Commands, I do obey. What's your will?

OBERON: Link thine arms behind thy back.

OBERON runs his hand along PUCK's arms

As the creeping ivy, or the woodbine

Do twine themselves about the limbs

Of trees, constraining them to weighty earth

That would stretch to heav'ns dome,

So let these limbs, of rarer matter,

Be bound.

PUCK: My lord, I pray, intends not

To plant me as a tree. I were not

Suited to't. And yet, were I to pray

(In what manner I might best please my lord)

There were little better way to do it.

OBERON: Thy prayers, my spirit,

Are that to drive the eternal stones

'Pon which Olympus rests to

Shaking.

PUCK: 'Tis true, my lord, yet

Those same stones were of the

Fire made, born from Earth's molten

Breast in times past knowledge and

Recounting, and in the hazy substance

Of their memory recall that hot eruption.

OBERON: Peace, my spirit, peace.

There is yet time tonight, and I would

Spend it in such fashion as I designed.

PUCK: And for such peace and time

I cry 'amen', or would an could

Place mine hands in fashion

Of the mortals, they that kneel

At cold stone feet of their lord gods.

Their lords might, so their tales do go,

Open the skies and shatter mountains,

Yet I do think my lord the greater,

For stone cannot return disciple's

Embrace, nor shatter and restore

Their worshipper.

OBERON: Enough. Thy arms are bound.

There let them stay, 'til such time as

I release thee.

PUCK: And stay they shall,

As my lord bade me.

What's your will? To taste

Such pain'ed pleasures as would

Awe those lords of Araby which

Do reside in perfume'd halls, who a score

Or more of black-eyed nymphs do

Dancing tend? To press thy

Will indomitable 'pon this form

Before thee, send the hours thrice

Roundabout their candle-mark's

Short space, prolonging dusky

Night in its sky-long ride?

OBERON: My will, sweet mischief,

Is thy momentary silence.

PUCK: Haps

My lord 'ud stop his obeisant's

Prayers, putting tongue to other use.

OBERON: Thy lord yet might,

Thou chatter'st like the goose

That sits in pen at market,

Remarking 'pon the passers-by

In happy ignorance of pot and spit.

PUCK: An were I a goose,

My lord must needs pluck me

'Ere he delight of me.

OBERON: An wert thou plucked,

Were naked.

PUCK: But a word from my noble

Master, and plucked this Puck

Shall be. Aye, and spitted too,

Shouldst thou decree.

OBERON: The spit may wait

Betimes, my Puck, yet occurs

That I would see the plucked.

PUCK makes to stand

Rise not, for as the fatted goose

Bares not his skin, dependent instead

On hand of that which death do deal him,

Shall you not lose thy garment,

Relying on thy lord to pluck thee bare.

PUCK: And with a little death

I do hope my lord requite me.

Yet, were I goose in truth, the

Brief release 'ud precede the plucking.

OBERON: Fortunate art thou,

My Puck, that thou are not

Such a fowl.

OBERON strips PUCK

In truth, fair spirit,

I think thee more akin to

Pearl in oyster, for stripped

Of rough cover dost shine indeed.

PUCK: Pearl? What's pearl?

Some sand in shell which poor

Creature must of necessity cover,

Lest be ground away, ta'en again and set

As ornament in some lady's ear?

Pearls I'll wear, an' my lord

Desire, yet of me transmute not

A pearl.

OBERON: Pearls hast worn

And shall again, yet 'tis for thy

Traits in whole I name thee pearl,

E'en to thy core.

And lady's bauble too, for my lady

Titania doth attend on us tonight.

An should it her pleasure be

To change thee into fair instrument

Of her fancy, thou shalt attend.

PUCK: Being, then, as we wait

On fair Titania's attendance for

The greater game, might

Pass the while in small sport,

Entered 'twixt us two.

OBERON: Gentle Puck,

Try me not. 'Tis not meet

For loving servant to so

Misuse his lord.

PUCK: Nor would I so,

For all the world. Yet perchance

This Puck is tempted with

Other prizes, and for that

Might try thee. For such a

Fault, permit me mend. I'll

Do any task thou dost

Allot me, if only for thy pardon.

OBERON: My pardon thou shalt have,

And chance to make proper restitution.

I know thy kind, my spirit, and knew

E'en upon our meeting what thou wert.

Nay, I shall have patience from thee.

'Tis poor courtesy to be otherwise

Engaged when expects more in way of

Company.

TITANIA offstage: What ho, my Oberon?

OBERON: Within, lady mine.

[Enter TITANIA]

TITANIA: I see hast begun without me.

What, impatient for thy game that

Would begin without a player?

PUCK: Indeed no, madam, for

Despite much talk of pearls and plucking

Have yet to much progress

Beyond that which seest thou here.

TITANIA: Then, fair spirit, I do commend

Thy pains, for seems that clever tongue

Has stoked the fire of thy lord.

Crosses to OBERON.

Methinks, my lord, 'tis time and past

The game progressed.

All players present,

TITANIA pushes OBERON down on divan

Let us then commence.

OBERON: What would my lady?

Shall wind fingers in thy elf-locked

Tresses, or wrap'd in spider's silk,

Made sure and fast 'gainst couch?

TITANIA straddles OBERON's hips

TITANIA: Thy lady, lord, would

Stop thy tongue with kisses, and

With caresses raise thee to

Attend her pleasures. Come, gentle spirit,

TITANIA tugs PUCK forward by his hair

Thy lord requires thy assistance.

Bend wicked mouth and clever tongue

To render't.

PUCK: As my lord and lady

Do command, so I obey.

OBERON: Sweet mischief, thy talents

Are as ever without compare.

And you, my lady fair,

Are ill-garbed for this our sport.

TITANIA: Then 'tis duty of my lord

To remedy my dress. Attend it.

[OBERON tugs TITANIA's robes down her shoulders. Curtain falls. End scene.]

A/N: Happy Yuletide, Culumacilinte! I hope you like it!

My first time writing D/s, never mind Shakespearean, so I spent a lot of time thinking up innuendoes and blushing madly. This turned out to be more about the leadup than the actual sexytimes, mostly because I stared at the page trying to figure out how to properly, uh, communicate the act in script form before giving it up as a bad job.