Monster. Where am I? also what—or which—or who?
What is this feeling that is running through
My springs—or, rather, joints?—I seem to be
A comprehensive (feeling joints) joint-stock companee;
My Veins—that's if they are veins—seem to glow——
I've muscles—yea—in quarts—I move them—so!
(Creaks horribly all over: fiddle business in orchestra.)
Horror! I've broken something, I'm afraid!
What's this material of which I'm made?
It seems to be a sort of clay—combined
With bits of flesh and wax—I'm well designed—
To see, to move, to speak I can contrive—
I wonder if I really am alive!
(Sings) If my efforts are vain and I can't speak plain,
Don't laugh my attempts to scorn!
For, as will be seen, I am but a machine
Who doesn't yet know if he's born.
I can move my feet in a style rather neat,
And to waggle my jaws I contrive;
I can open my mouth from north to south,
I—I—wonder if I'm a-live, a-live!
I wonder if I'm a-live!
In 1888 Mr. G. R. Sims and Mr. Henry Pettitt joined forces in burlesque, and the result was seen in a piece happily entitled "Faust up to Date." In this version Marguerite (Miss Florence St. John) figures first as a barmaid at an Exhibition. She is a young lady of some astuteness, though she insists upon her general ingenuousness:—
I'm a simple little maid,
Of the swells I am afraid,
I tell them when they're forward they must mind what they're about.
I never go to balls,
Or to plays or music-halls,
And my venerated mother always knows when I am out.
When I leave my work at night,
I never think it right
To talk to any gentleman I haven't seen before.
But I take a 'bus or tram,
Like the modest girl I am,
For I know that my big brother will be waiting at the door.
Martha introduces herself thus:—
I'm Martha, and my husband's never seen;
Though fifty, my complexion's seventeen.
In all the versions I've one rôle to play,
To mind Miss Marguerite while her frère's away.
You ask me why she don't live with her mother,
And I reply by asking you another—
Where is my husband? I oft wonder if
The public know he left me in a tiff,
And not a single word from him I've heerd
Since Marguerite's mother also disappeared.
Not that I draw conclusions—oh dear, no!
The gents who wrote the opera made them go.
And Goethe lets a gentleman in red
Inform me briefly my old man is dead.
These details show my character's not shady—
I am a widow and a perfect lady.
When Valentine returns home and hears the scandal about his sister, he breaks out into the following terrific curse:—
When to the drawing-room you have to go,
With arms all bare and neck extremely low,
For four long hours in biting wind and snow,
May you the joys of England's springtime know!
Whene'er you ride, or drive a prancing pair,
May the steam roller meet you everywhere!
When thro' the Park you wend your homeward way,
Oh, may it be a Home Rule gala day!
When for a concert you have paid your gold,
May Mr. Sims Reeves have a dreadful cold!
May you live where, through lath-and-plaster walls,
Come loud and clear the next-door baby's squalls!
Your husband's mother, when you are a wife,
Bring all her cats, and stay with you for life!