Eiplogue Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AB CCDDEEFFGHIIJJJJKKLL MMNNJJOOLLJJBBJJBBBB JJINTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN FOR 'SHE STOOPS | A |
TO CONQUER' | B |
- | |
THERE is a place so Ariosto sings | C |
A treasury for lost and missing things | C |
Lost human wits have places assign'd them | D |
And they who lose their senses there may find them | D |
But where's this place this storehouse of the age | E |
The Moon says he but 'I' affirm the Stage | E |
At least in many things I think I see | F |
His lunar and our mimic world agree | F |
Both shine at night for but at Foote's alone | G |
We scarce exhibit till the sun goes down | H |
Both prone to change no settled limits fix | I |
And sure the folks of both are lunatics | I |
But in this parallel my best pretence is | J |
That mortals visit both to find their senses | J |
To this strange spot Rakes Macaronies Cits | J |
Come thronging to collect their scatter'd wits | J |
The gay coquette who ogles all the day | K |
Comes here at night and goes a prude away | K |
Hither the affected city dame advancing | L |
Who sighs for operas and dotes on dancing | L |
Taught by our art her ridicule to pause on | M |
Quits the 'Ballet' and calls for 'Nancy Dawson' | M |
The Gamester too whose wit's all high or low | N |
Oft risks his fortune on one desperate throw | N |
Comes here to saunter having made his bets | J |
Finds his lost senses out and pay his debts | J |
The Mohawk too with angry phrases stored | O |
As 'D Sir ' and 'Sir I wear a sword' | O |
Here lesson'd for a while and hence retreating | L |
Goes out affronts his man and takes a beating | L |
Here come the sons of scandal and of news | J |
But find no sense for they had none to lose | J |
Of all the tribe here wanting an adviser | B |
Our Author's the least likely to grow wiser | B |
Has he not seen how you your favour place | J |
On sentimental Queens and Lords in lace | J |
Without a star a coronet or garter | B |
How can the piece expect or hope for quarter | B |
No high life scenes no sentiment the creature | B |
Still stoops among the low to copy nature | B |
Yes he's far gone and yet some pity fix | J |
The English laws forbid to punish lunatics | J |
Oliver Goldsmith
(1)
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