After wandering through Shakespeare gardens in San Francisco and New York, Jeremy McCarter muses that contemporary plays seldom “yield the kinds of passages that people erect gardens to celebrate. Look at the foremost living playwrights: Pinter, Mamet, Albee, Churchill, Kushner (to name a few). All … show varying degrees of flair with language. But who among them employs the kind of luxurious metaphor, the rich description, that people will cast on bronze plaques in a 100 years’ time – and where would they go?”