Title: The Shakespeare garden club: A fantasy
Author: Moran, Mabel M.
Language: English
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  The Shakespeare Garden Club

  A FANTASY

  --by--

  Mabel M. Moran
  of the
  Larchmont Garden Club
  Larchmont, N. Y.

  [Illustration]

  Copyright 1919. By Mabel M. Moran.



CAST


  Ann Hathaway
  Mistress Page
  Mistress Ford
  Lady Macbeth
  Perdita
  Cordelia
  Desdemona
  Katherine
  Jessica
  Portia
  Rosalind
  Juliet
  Titania
  Ophelia
  Rosaline
  Cleopatra



The Shakespeare Garden Club

A FANTASY

By MABEL M. MORAN.


SCENE: A room in Ann Hathaway’s cottage at Stratford-on-Avon.
Furnishing in keeping with the period.

(As curtain rises Ann is in the act of placing chairs, benches etc., in
a semi-circle around the room; in center of circle is a long chest to
be used as desk for the presiding officer.

Noise is heard at door. Ann runs and opens same. Enter Mistress Page
and Mistress Ford,--with animated flutter).

  ANN: Mistress Page (kisses) and Mistress Ford (more kisses). No finer
    sight ere greeted eye than you two dear ladies--nor never did I need
    you more.

  PAGE: How now?

  FORD: And why is this?

  ANN: Forsooth, ’tis a meeting here to-day of the Shakespeare Garden
    Club--and like to be grave and solemn, so none better than you Merry
    Wives of Windsor to cheer me up.

  PAGE: A meeting--a-lack-a-day--may we stay? We are not members.

  ANN: Oh, you are my guests--and most welcome.

  FORD: Do we know the ladies?

  ANN: Nearly all, I trow, there’s the President, Lady Macbeth.

  PAGE: She was ever all dignity--and ambition.

  ANN: And the Secretary is Portia, the attorney-at-law.

  FORD: A-la-la, she’ll make you toe the mark.

  ANN: Jessica, Shylock’s daughter, is Treasurer.

  PAGE: No one dares owe dues to her, I’ll warrant.

  ANN: But sit you down, and have a merry gossip together. Methinks the
  ladies do arrive.

    (Knock on door. Perdita enters, greeting and handshaking)

  ANN: (Aside to wives as Perdita crosses stage and takes chair at
    end) You remember the Winters’ Tale they told of her? (Wives nod
    energetically)

  ANN: And here comes Desdemona, wife of Othello.

    Enter Desdemona. (sits by Perdita)

  PAGE: (aside) How could she ever have married that horrid black man?

    Enter Cordelia.

  FORD: I have never met her, she’s daughter to King Lear, a cranky
    father and hard to please, but she’s a lovely religious woman.

    Enter Katherine.

  PAGE: Why that’s Petrucio’s wife, the one they called the Shrew, she
    hath an untamed twinkle in her eye.

    Enter Jessica.
    (sits at table)

  FORD: Shylock’s daughter, she keeps him guessing I’ll warrant.

    Enter Rosalind.
    (in man’s attire)

  PAGE: That must be Rosalind, she always did love the doublet and
  hose, but--as you like it--so do it, say I.

    Enter Portia.
    (Mortar-board and gown)
    (Sits at center table.)

  FORD: ’Tis Portia, the lawyer, and most successful. She’ll win a case
    tho it be for the Queen or only for a pound of flesh.

    Enter Juliet.

  PAGE: That’s Romeo’s wife, Juliet Capulet that was; for a run-away
    match I hear they’re very happy.

    Enter Titania.

  FORD: There’s a woman I cannot understand. She seems ever to dwell in
    a sort of Midsummer Night’s Dream.

    Enter Ophelia.

  PAGE: That girl gives me the shivers, tho some say she makes a fine
    wife to that melancholy Dane named Hamlet.

    Enter Cleopatra.
    (Regally attired in Egyptian draperies)

  FORD: My word! ’Tis well our husbands are not here, that woman is a
    vampire.

    (Enter in numbers minor characters and take seats, much chatting,
    laughing, etc., until)
    Enter Lady Macbeth.
    (All rise and bow, she takes seat at center of table and raps)
    The meeting comes to order.

  LADY MACBETH: (rising and speaking with much dignity) Ladies of the
    Shakespeare Garden Club: We have a long and arduous meeting before
    us. Do I impose too much upon the milk of human kindness when I beg
    that the minutes of the previous meeting be omitted?

  PORTIA: (Jumping to her feet) I do protest, Madam, there is no power
    in Stratford that can alter a decree established.

  KATHERINE: How now! Must we listen to the law again to-day, Portia?
    Go to--let’s get on!

  LADY MACBETH: Oh well, what were done, when ’tis done then ’twere
    well it were done quickly. Madam Secretary--the minutes.

  PORTIA: (reading) The 12th meeting of the Shakespeare Garden Club
    was held on March 15th (interruption from a member) Oh the Ides of
    March! The Ides of March. (grows faint and is fanned by companions.)

  MISTRESS PAGE: Poor soul, that is Caesar’s wife.

  PORTIA: (continues) The meeting was at the home of Juliet Montague
    and was addressed by Will Shakespeare himself, who hath told us in
    strong words of the unsightly condition of the banks of the River
    Avon. Willow trees uprooted, old rushes strewn about; broken
    flagons, and stray odds and ends of all unsavory things, even unto
    defunct felines, lie on the edge of our lovely waterway, and it was
    urged by our most beloved leader that this Club take the matter in
    hand and clear away the filth and grow Plants, Flowers and Fruits
    along the river’s banks. ’Twas moved by Desdemona, seconded by
    Rosalind, and carried that our Garden Club should attend unto this
    work.

  LADY MACBETH: (rising) Enough! Thus thou must do, if thou’d have it,
    let us hear what our members have in mind.

  PORTIA: Madam President, there is more to read.

  JESSICA: Sit you down, Portia, and let me read my report upon the
    ducats in our treasury.

  PORTIA: Jessica, thou art indeed thy father’s child. Shylock ever
    thought upon the ducats.

  LADY MACBETH: Ladies, enough of this. Ambition for our Club is our
    dear wish. Let’s on with business. Who hath considered this matter
    and can name some fair flowers to carpet Avon’s banks?

    (looks about questioningly, a member rises)

    Ah Titania!

  TITANIA: Madam President, my suggestions come from realms of fairy
    land as I dream, half-waking, on a bank where the wild thyme blows;
    where oxlips and the nodding violet grows. Quite over canopied with
    luscious woodbine, with sweet musk roses, and with eglantine. I
    dream of pease blossoms and mustard seed and canker roses (tho some
    call them wild) and honeysuckle and ivy--(which I trow is feminine
    because it requires support). I give you dewberries and apricots,
    and love-in-idleness, and there is cupid’s flower and Dian’s bud,
    which is but an herb, but brewed will keep men and women chaste.

  MISTRESS FORD: (aside) Best brew some for Cleopatra.

  TITANIA: (continues) These, Madam President, are what I would grow on
    Avon’s marshy banks. (sits down)

  LADY MACBETH: Titania hath named a worthy list, let all in favor
    signify in the usual way.

    (Members applaud and murmur “aye, aye”)

  LADY MACBETH: (looking about) Juliet, do I see you wish to speak?

  JULIET: Madam President, Romeo says the plaintain leaf is most
    excellent for healing bruises, why not grow that? And Friar Lawrence
    knows many precious juic-ed flowers that kill the poisons of baleful
    weeds. Such weeds as the mandrake that shrieks like living mortals
    when torn from the earth. And surely we must have a pomegranate tree,
    for Romeo and I both know that the nightingale loves to sing in the
    branches, and the nightingale sings far sweeter than the lark.

  JESSICA: Oh you romantic child, still thinking of your honeymoon.

  LADY MACBETH: Ladies, your approval? (Applause and “ayes”)

  OPHELIA: (very timidly) Madam President?

  KATHERINE: (aside) Have we to listen to Ophelia? Everyone knows she
    hath bats in her belfry.

  ROSALIND: Hush, Kate, Hamlet hath changed her mind since they were
    wed, she’s sane enough now.

  KATHERINE: Hamlet and Petrucio must be of the same kin, Petrucio made
    me change some, forsooth.

  OPHELIA: (in louder tones) Madam President.

  LADY MACBETH: Ah Ophelia, speak up my child.

  OPHELIA: Madam, I move we plant rosemary, that’s for remembrance
    and a chosen emblem for weddings and funerals. And pansies, they’re
    for thought, tho Madam Titania called them “love-in-idleness.”
    Fennel, too, we should have, that’s for flatterers, tho some say the
    gladiators mixed it with their daily food, to make them fierce and
    rude. Columbine is pretty, but it means unfaithfulness--and forsaken
    lovers--let’s not plant that. Then we must have rue, for its other
    name is herb of grace--we all need that. And daisies, shall we plant
    those? They mean to “dissemble.” But oh dear Madam, I pray you let
    us have violets--and violets and violets, for they mean
    faithfulness. (sits down)

  KATHERINE: Madam President, I move we cheer Ophelia, she hath told us
    useful things. (Members--“Aye, aye, aye!”)

  LADY MACBETH: (Raps for quiet) Peace ladies, time passes, we must
    hasten, are there more suggestions?

  PERDITA: Madam President--Now Jove give me courage, I do so tremble
    when I speak--we should plant lavender and mint, and savory, and
    marjoram, and pale primroses--fairest flowers of their season would
    show star-like on Avon’s banks, while the flower-de-luce and crown
    imperial would rear their lily heads in majesty gainst the foliage
    of willows. We could also have carnations and gillyvors, tho I like
    them not.

    (sits down hastily)

  KATHERINE: Madam President. Perdita is so shy she will not tell
    why she likes not the carnation and the gillyvors, but I know ’tis
    because they both are streaked with red and white and look like
    painted women.

  MISTRESS FORD: (aside) Let’s call Cleopatra “gilly” for short.

  CORDELIA: Madam President.

  LADY MACBETH: Cordelia has the floor.

  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.

  LADY MACBETH: Quite likely, child, ’tis a pretty chant, we thank you.
    (looks slowly around circle) Ah, Cleopatra, have you no suggestions?

    (Cleopatra rises languidly and poses)

  CLEOPATRA: Madam President, age cannot wither, nor custom stale the
    infinite variety of my memories of Egypt’s bounteous blooms; but
    alas! They would shrivel and die in your cold clime. Would that you
    might see green figs grow, and ripe luscious olives. And Oh for a
    glimpse of the date trees on the Nile, or a whiff of the orange
    blossoms’ perfume. Could you but imagine the beauty of the lemon
    tree heavy with golden fruit, or the loveliness of the lime. The
    dusky purple of Egypt’s wine-like grapes lies ever in mine eye, and
    I dream of the wondrous green of the Aspic vine. Yet perchance that
    which I love most is the polished sheen of laurel leaves, for
    Anthony and I wore laurel chaplets on our brows throughout the year.
    (Sinks back into seat)

  MISTRESS PAGE: My word, she treats us English like 30 farthings.

  LADY MACBETH: My lady Cleopatra hath told us what we may not have.

  OPHELIA: (rising hastily) Dear lady, let me tell you what we must not
    have, ’tis aconite, bracken, bramble and brier, burs, burdock and
    cockle, duckweed and hemlock, insane-root, nettles and opium. All
    these are evil things. Let’s none of them.

    (Members murmur and shiver)

  PORTIA: The law would call this a process of elimination.

  ROSALIND: Madam President, I speak for the greenwood tree, for trees
    are my delight. ’Twas but a while ago that I found a man haunting
    the forest and abusing our young plants with carving “Rosalind” on
    their bark. Hanging odes on Hawthornes, and elegies on
    brambles--forsooth deifying the name of Rosalind. I soon stopped
    that.

  KATHERINE: Brave girl, what did you do?

  ROSALIND: (laughing) I married him.

  LADY MACBETH: Mistress Ford, have you a thought to add to our growing
    list?

  MISTRESS FORD: (rising and bowing low) My lady, I thank you for your
    courtesy to one outside your club, and being a good housewife I
    would speak for grains. You should plant barley, corn and oats, rye
    and wheat. Then too, there’s spices, ginger, nutmeg and mace--oh
    yes, and mustard, thyme and savory.

  MISTRESS PAGE: (rising quickly) Dear Madam, I, too, am a good
    housewife, pray let me speak for what we can never neglect, good
    vegetables. There’s cabbage and carrots, beans and peas, lettuce and
    mushrooms, and onions, garlic and leeks.

  LADY MACBETH: Ladies! Mine ears are weighted with sounds of food.
    Pray let us not consider onions--garlic and leeks--or all the
    perfume of Arabia will not sweeten this little land.

  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)

  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.

  CLEOPATRA: (languidly) Madam, I move we adjourn.


  Curtain.



TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

  The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is
    entered into the public domain.



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