Overview
SQUARE PEGS: A RHYMED FANTASY FOR TWO GIRLS
CHARACTERS.
Hilda A Modern Girl.
Gioconda A Fifteenth Century Venetian.
SCENE.
A Garden. Entrance right and left. Left, a table and two chairs. (The general effect should suggest a little lawn which leads outward in several directions.)
The arrival of a taxicab is heard, off. Enter left, Hilda in summer hat and dress and with a light cloak on her arm. She carries a folding-map and a small book.
Hilda (speaking off, left).
What's that? As certain as your name's Joe Billings
The taximeter points at fifteen shillings.
Well, and you've had a pound. What? Made a slip?
I thought five shillings was a handsome tip.
You want my father's home-address? 'The Haven,
Chad Crescent, Baystead, North-West 57.'
He'll write you out a cheque—I'm sure he will.
[Sound of a motor-horn growing fainter.
The creature's gone. These taxi-men! But still—
At last I've found the Enchanted Garden... Wait:
Suppose that isn't really Merlin's Gate,
Nor this the garden where a girl who loathes
8Our Twentieth Century (all except its clothes)
May turn the Book of Time to any page
And find herself back in a lovelier age?
The map will show. Yes, there's the gate, and there's
That wall, that table, these two empty chairs...
Everything's right. How wonderful, how splendid,
To know that here the roar of time has ended!
Now, let me see... [Consulting her map.
If I should take that road
What century should I have for my abode?
'To Ancient Rome.' Lovely!
[She starts to go out, right. Then stops.
It might be serious,
Though, if I chanced on Nero or Tiberius.
The Romans had no manners... This way here—
So the map says—would lead me to the year
Ten-sixty-six. I won't be such a fool
As go back where I stuck so long at school.
William the First was always dull. I know
He'd make me listen to him—standing so,
With Bayeux hands, knee crookèd, and neck bowed—
While he read all the Domesday Book aloud.
I shan't go there... Now, that's a pretty view!
[Referring to the map.
'The Eighteenth Century: Boswell Avenue.'
I might try that. But no—that won't do either.
I'd have to wear a wig or tell them why there,
Love coffee-houses more than trees and birds
And talk in such tremendously long words.
I know, I know! If I can find the way
I'll wander back into the sumptuous day
9When, in his gardens near the warm lagoon,
Titian gave feasts under the stars and moon.
That would be heavenly! Those were noble times.
There was a grandeur even about the crimes
Of people like the Borgias ... and their dresses,
And the sweet way they wore their hair in tresses,
And—oh, and everything! What was Titian's date?
I mustn't err into a time too late;
But how to make quite sure? I'll take a look
In this adorable fire-coloured book—
Addington Symonds... Oh, that I knew more!
Was it in fifteen-sixty or before?
