Analysis of To Dr. F. B[eale]; On His Book Of Chesse.
Richard Lovelace 1618 – 1657
Sir, how unravell'd is the golden fleece:
Men, that could only fool at FOX AND GEESE,
Are new-made polititians by thy book,
And both can judge and conquer with a look.
The hidden fate of princes you unfold;
Court, clergy, commons, by your law control'd.
Strange, serious wantoning all that they
Bluster'd and clutter'd for, you PLAY.
| Scheme | AABBCCDD |
|---|---|
| Poetic Form | |
| Metre | 11110101 1111011101 1111111 0111010101 0101110101 110101111 11001111 1010111 |
| Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
| Characters | 334 |
| Words | 59 |
| Sentences | 4 |
| Stanzas | 1 |
| Stanza Lengths | 8 |
| Lines Amount | 8 |
| Letters per line (avg) | 32 |
| Words per line (avg) | 7 |
| Letters per stanza (avg) | 258 |
| Words per stanza (avg) | 57 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 18 sec read
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"To Dr. F. B[eale]; On His Book Of Chesse." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/30251/to-dr.-f.-b%5Beale%5D%3B-on-his-book-of-chesse.>.
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