Henslowe. Black swans are rarest. I saw one when I was last in London. London’s a great city! Madonna, you should send your husband to market in London, and in a twelvemonth he’ll bring you home the world in his pocket as it might be a russet apple.
Anne. What should we do with the world, sir, here in Stratford?
Henslowe. Why, seed it and sow it, and plant it in your garden, and it’ll grow into the tree of knowledge.
Anne [turning away]. My garden is planted already.
Henslowe [in a low voice], The black swan seeks a mate, black swan.
Shakespeare. A woman?
Anne [turning sharply]. What did he say to you?
Henslowe. Why, that a woman can make her fortune in London as well as a man. There’s one came lately to court, but sixteen and a mere knight’s daughter, without a penny piece, and you should see her now! The men at her feet—
Anne. And the women—?
Henslowe. Under her heel.