CORDELIA: Dear Madam, I fear to annoy, but would the name of berries fall heavy on thine ear? We should grow some of these along the bank; say blueberries and blackberries, currants, and dewberries, gooseberries, mulberries and strawberries, and if we grow strawberries we must remember that our own King Henry the Fifth hath said: “The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, and wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, neighbored by fruit of baser quality.” Are we humans like that, I wonder? LADY MACBETH: (Turning to Portia) Madam Secretary, are you able to make notes--these thoughts come in thick and fast. PORTIA: Aye, Madam, and I crave your mercy, and beg that the quality of mercy is not strained, for Ann Hathaway has asked that we leave not out of our discussion the trees that Master Shakespeare loves so well. If a suggestion from me comes not amiss, it would seem wise that our members now sitting in this half circle should try, as in our childhood games, to name the trees in order, alphabetical, each taking her turn according to the letter, what say you, Madam? LADY MACBETH: Most admirable. Shall we begin at this end with Mistress Page? MISTRESS PAGE: Do I understand that I am to name all trees I canst remember beginning with the letter ‘A?’ PORTIA: That is my thought, and when you have finished just tap your neighbor and she will start with ‘B.’ MISTRESS PAGE: (Thoughtfully) Almond, ash, aspen, apple, that’s all. (taps Mistress Ford) MISTRESS FORD: Balsam, bay, birch, box. (much excitement among members, all trying to think, etc.) (Much original business) NEXT: Cherry, chestnut, crabapple, cypress. NEXT: Elm and elder. NEXT: Fig, filbert and fir. NEXT: Hazlenut and holly. NEXT: Lemon, lime and linden. NEXT: Oak, olive, orange. NEXT: Mistletoe and mulberry. NEXT: Palm, peach, pear, pine, plum, pomegranate. NEXT: Quince. NEXT: Sycamore. NEXT: Walnut and willow. NEXT: Yew-tree. ANN HATHAWAY: Will Shakespeare would love that game, and thank the players, ’tis a goodly list of trees to cast welcome shade on Avon’s banks. LADY MACBETH: Ladies, we may rest content, our meeting hath accomplished much, is there further discussion for our Garden Club? DESDEMONA: Madam, my husband’s friend, Iago, (tho I like nor trust him not) hath a pretty wit and hath likened us to gardens in these words: “Our bodies are our gardens, to which our wills are gardeners, so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop, and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.” (sits down)