For The Better Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEEFFGG HHIIJJKLJJMMNOPQRRSS TTTUUVVWW XXYYZZ| A Quack to no true Skill in Physick bred | A |
| With frequent Visits cursed his Patient's Bed | A |
| Enquiring how he did his Broths digest | B |
| How chim'd his Pulse and how he took his Rest | B |
| If shudd'ring Cold by Burnings was pursu'd | C |
| And at what time the Aguish Fit renew'd | C |
| The waining Wretch each day become more faint | D |
| In like proportion doubles his Complaint | D |
| Now swooning Sweats he begs him to allay | E |
| Now give his Lungs more liberty to play | E |
| And take from empty'd Veins these scorching Heats away | E |
| Or if he saw the Danger did increase | F |
| To warn him fair and let him part in Peace | F |
| My Life for yours no Hazard in your Case | G |
| The Quack replies your Voice your Pulse your Face | G |
| - | |
| Good Signs afford and what you seem to feel | H |
| Proceeds from Vapours which we'll help with Steel | H |
| With kindled Rage more than Distemper burns | I |
| The suff'ring Man who thus in haste returns | I |
| No more of Vapours your belov'd Disease | J |
| Your Ignorance's Skreen your What you please | J |
| With which you cheat poor Females of their Lives | K |
| Whilst Men dispute not so it rid their Wives | L |
| For me I'll speak free as I've paid my Fees | J |
| My Flesh consumes I perish by degrees | J |
| And as thro' weary Nights I count my Pains | M |
| No Rest is left me and no Strength remains | M |
| All for the Better Sir the Quack rejoins | N |
| Exceeding promising are all these Signs | O |
| Falling away your Nurses can confirm | P |
| Was ne'er in Sickness thought a Mark of Harm | Q |
| The want of Strength is for the Better still | R |
| Since Men of Vigour Fevers soonest kill | R |
| Ev'n with this Gust of Passion I am pleas'd | S |
| For they're most Patient who the most are seiz'd | S |
| - | |
| But let me see here's that which all repels | T |
| Then shakes as he some formal Story tells | T |
| The Treacle water mixt with powder'd Shells | T |
| My Stomach's gone what d'you infer from thence | U |
| Nor will with the least Sustenance dispense | U |
| The Better for where appetite endures | V |
| Meats intermingle and no Med'cine cures | V |
| The Stomach you must know Sir is a Part | W |
| But sure I feel Death's Pangs about my Heart | W |
| - | |
| Nay then Farewel I need no more attend | X |
| The Quack replies A sad approaching Friend | X |
| Questions the Sick why he retires so fast | Y |
| Who says because of Fees I've paid the Last | Y |
| And whilst all Symptoms tow'rd my Cure agree | Z |
| Am for the Better Dying as you see | Z |
Anne Kingsmill Finch
(1)
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