Analysis of A Letter To Sir George Etherege.
To you who live in chill degree,
As map informs, of fifty-three,
And do not much for cold atone,
By bringing thither fifty-one,
Methinks all climes should be alike,
From tropic e'en to pole arctique;
Since you have such a constitution
As nowhere suffers diminution.
You can be old in grave debate,
And young in love-affairs of state;
And both to wives and husbands show
The vigour of a plenipo.
Like mighty missioner you come
"Ad Partes Infidelium."
A work of wondrous merit sure,
So far to go, so much t' endure;
And all to preach to German dame,
Where sound of Cupid never came.
Less had you done, had you been sent
As far as Drake or Pinto went,
For cloves or nutmegs to the line-a,
Or even for oranges to China.
That had indeed been charity;
Where love-sick ladies helpless lie,
Chapt, and for want of liquor dry.
But you have made your zeal appear
Within the circle of the Bear.
What region of the earth's so dull
That is not of your labours full?
Triptolemus (so sung the Nine)
Strew'd plenty from his cart divine,
But spite of all these fable-makers,
He never sow'd on Almain acres:
No; that was left by Fate's decree,
To be perform'd and sung by thee.
Thou break'st through forms with as much ease
As the French king through articles.
In grand affairs thy days are spent,
In waging weighty compliment,
With such as monarchs represent.
They, whom such vast fatigues attend,
Want some soft minutes to unbend,
To show the world that now and then
Great ministers are mortal men.
Then Rhenish rammers walk the round;
In bumpers every king is crown'd;
Besides three holy mitred Hectors,
And the whole college of Electors,
No health of potentate is sunk,
That pays to make his envoy drunk.
These Dutch delights I mention'd last
Suit not, I know, your English taste:
For wine to leave a whore or play
Was ne'er your Excellency's way.
Nor need this title give offence,
For here you were your Excellence,
For gaming, writing, speaking, keeping,
His Excellence for all but sleeping.
Now if you tope in form, and treat,
'Tis the sour sauce to the sweet meat,
The fine you pay for being great.
Nay, here's a harder imposition,
Which is indeed the court's petition,
That setting worldly pomp aside,
Which poet has at font denied,
You would be pleased in humble way
To write a trifle call'd a play.
This truly is a degradation,
But would oblige the crown and nation
Next to your wise negotiation.
If you pretend, as well you may,
Your high degree, your friends will say,
The Duke St Aignon made a play.
If Gallic wit convince you scarce,
His Grace of Bucks has made a farce,
And you, whose comic wit is terse all,
Can hardly fall below rehearsal.
Then finish what you have began;
But scribble faster, if you can:
For yet no George, to our discerning,
Has writ without a ten years' warning.
Scheme | AAXBCCBBDDXXE EFFGGHHIIAJJXXKXLLMMAAXXHHHNNOOPPMMQQXXRRMXSSTTDBBUURRBBBRRRXXXKVVSS |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11110101 11011101 01111101 1101101 1111101 11011111 11110010 1110010 11110101 01010111 01110101 01101 110111 111 01110101 111111101 01111101 11110101 11111111 1111111 11111010 1101100110 11011100 11110101 10111101 11111101 01010101 11010111 1111111 11101 11011101 111111010 11011110 11111101 11010111 111111111 10111100 01011111 01010100 111101 11110101 1111011 11011101 11001101 111101 010100111 0111011 001101010 1111011 11111101 11011101 11111101 11110111 11111 1111011 11101100 110101010 110011110 11110101 101011011 01111101 11010010 110101010 11010101 11011101 11110101 11010101 11010010 110101010 11110010 11011111 11011111 0111101 11010111 11111101 011101111 110101010 11011101 11010111 1111110010 110101110 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,705 |
Words | 506 |
Sentences | 21 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 13, 68 |
Lines Amount | 81 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,083 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 252 |
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Submitted on August 03, 2020
Modified on April 23, 2023
- 2:35 min read
- 11 Views
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"A Letter To Sir George Etherege." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/55883/a-letter-to-sir-george-etherege.>.
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