CORDELIA: Ladies, I ask your indulgence while I tell you a short but sweet tale of the Crown Imperial. This flower, which we sometimes call the Canterbury Bells, was first made white and erect and grew to its full beauty in the Garden of Gethsemane where it was oft noted and admired by our Lord, but on the night of the Agony, as he passed through the Garden, all the other flowers bowed their heads in sorrowful adoration, save the Crown Imperial, which alone remained with its head unbowed, but not for long. Sorrow and shame soon took the place of pride, and tears and painful blushes followed, and so hath she ever remained with bent blossoms unto this very day. (Murmurs and nods from members)
MISTRESS FORD: (aside) Did I not say Cordelia was a fine religious woman?
ROSALINE: Madam President?
LADY MACBETH: Rosaline, my dear, I rejoice to hear you speak.
ROSALINE: Dear Madam, I recall a sweet song of my childhood, learned before I knew that sometimes Love’s Labor’s Lost. It paints a picture of springtime. (Sings)
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight.
Surely this would apply to Avon’s banks as well.