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)
LADY MACBETH: True, child, very true. Ladies, let me prophesy, that when our members have died, and worms have eaten them and Master Shakespeare himself hath become but ancient history—garden clubs in times to come will remember fair Avon’s shores made lovely by your sweet suggestions.