Ode To Himself Upon The Censure Of His New Inn Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEE FFGGHHIIJJ KKLLMMNOBB PPQQRRSSTT UUVWXXFFDD YYPPZZA2B2DD| Come leave the loathed stage | A |
| And the more loathsome age | A |
| Where pride and impudence in faction knit | B |
| Usurp the chair of wit | B |
| Indicting and arraigning every day | C |
| Something they call a play | C |
| Let their fastidious vain | D |
| Commission of the brain | D |
| Run on and rage sweat censure and condemn | E |
| They were not made for thee less thou for them | E |
| - | |
| Say that thou pour'st them wheat | F |
| And they will acorns eat | F |
| 'Twere simple fury still thyself to waste | G |
| On such as have no taste | G |
| To offer them a surfeit of pure bread | H |
| Whose appetites are dead | H |
| No give them grains their fill | I |
| Husks draff to drink and swill | I |
| If they love lees and leave the lusty wine | J |
| Envy them not their palate's with the swine | J |
| - | |
| No doubt some mouldy tale | K |
| Like Pericles and stale | K |
| As the shrieve's crusts and nasty as his fish | L |
| Scraps out of every dish | L |
| Thrown forth and rak'd into the common tub | M |
| May keep up the Play club | M |
| There sweepings do as well | N |
| As the best order'd meal | O |
| For who the relish of these guests will fit | B |
| Needs set them but the alms basket of wit | B |
| - | |
| And much good do't you then | P |
| Brave plush and velvet men | P |
| Can feed on orts and safe in your stage clothes | Q |
| Dare quit upon your oaths | Q |
| The stagers and the stage wrights too your peers | R |
| Of larding your large ears | R |
| With their foul comic socks | S |
| Wrought upon twenty blocks | S |
| Which if they are torn and turn'd and patch'd enough | T |
| The gamesters share your gilt and you their stuff | T |
| - | |
| Leave things so prostitute | U |
| And take the Alcaic lute | U |
| Or thine own Horace or Anacreon's lyre | V |
| Warm thee by Pindar's fire | W |
| And though thy nerves be shrunk and blood be cold | X |
| Ere years have made thee old | X |
| Strike that disdainful heat | F |
| Throughout to their defeat | F |
| As curious fools and envious of thy strain | D |
| May blushing swear no palsy's in thy brain | D |
| - | |
| But when they hear thee sing | Y |
| The glories of thy king | Y |
| His zeal to God and his just awe o'er men | P |
| They may blood shaken then | P |
| Feel such a flesh quake to possess their powers | Z |
| As they shall cry Like ours | Z |
| In sound of peace or wars | A2 |
| No harp e'er hit the stars | B2 |
| In tuning forth the acts of his sweet reign | D |
| And raising Charles his chariot 'bove his Wain | D |
Ben Jonson
(1)
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