Analysis of For the Better
Anne Kingsmill Finch 1661 – 1720 (Westminster)
A Quack, to no true Skill in Physick bred,
With frequent Visits cursed his Patient's Bed;
Enquiring, how he did his Broths digest,
How chim'd his Pulse, and how he took his Rest:
If shudd'ring Cold by Burnings was pursu'd,
And at what time the Aguish Fit renew'd.
The waining Wretch, each day become more faint,
In like proportion doubles his Complaint;
Now swooning Sweats he begs him to allay,
Now give his Lungs more liberty to play,
And take from empty'd Veins these scorching Heats away:
Or if he saw the Danger did increase,
To warn him fair, and let him part in Peace.
My Life for yours, no Hazard in your Case
The Quack replies; your Voice, your Pulse, your Face,
Good Signs afford, and what you seem to feel
Proceeds from Vapours, which we'll help with Steel.
With kindled Rage, more than Distemper, burns
The suff'ring Man, who thus in haste returns:
No more of Vapours, your belov'd Disease,
Your Ignorance's Skreen, your What-you-please,
With which you cheat poor Females of their Lives,
Whilst Men dispute not, so it rid their Wives.
For me, I'll speak free as I've paid my Fees;
My Flesh consumes, I perish by degrees:
And as thro' weary Nights I count my Pains,
No Rest is left me, and no Strength remains.
All for the Better, Sir, the Quack rejoins:
Exceeding promising are all these Signs.
Falling-away, your Nurses can confirm,
Was ne'er in Sickness thought a Mark of Harm.
The want of Strength is for the Better still;
Since Men of Vigour Fevers soonest kill.
Ev'n with this Gust of Passion I am pleas'd;
For they're most Patient who the most are seiz'd.
But let me see! here's that which all repels:
Then shakes, as he some formal Story tells,
The Treacle-water, mixt with powder'd Shells.
My Stomach's gone (what d'you infer from thence?)
Nor will with the least Sustenance dispense.
The Better; for, where appetite endures,
Meats intermingle, and no Med'cine cures.
The Stomach, you must know, Sir, is a Part–
But, sure, I feel Death's Pangs about my Heart.
Nay then Farewel! I need no more attend
The Quack replies. A sad approaching Friend
Questions the Sick, why he retires so fast;
Who says, because of Fees I've paid the Last,
And, whilst all Symptoms tow'rd my Cure agree,
Am, for the Better, Dying as you see.
Scheme | AABBCCDDEEEFFGG HHIIJJKKJJLLXXXXMMNN OOOPPQQRR SSTTUU |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 011111011 1101011101 11111101 1111011111 111110101 011101101 011110111 0101010101 1101111101 1111110011 01111110101 1111010101 1111011101 1111110011 0101111111 1101011111 011111111 1101110101 011110101 111110101 1111111 111111111 1101111111 1111111111 1101110101 0111011111 1111101101 1101010101 0101001111 1001110101 1101010111 0111110101 111110101 11111110111 1111010111 1111111101 1111110101 011011101 1111110111 1110110001 010111001 10100111 0101111101 1111110111 111111101 0101010101 1001110111 1101111101 0111011101 1101010111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,227 |
Words | 401 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 15, 20, 9, 6 |
Lines Amount | 50 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 431 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 100 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:07 min read
- 46 Views
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"For the Better" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 7 Sep. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/3255/for-the-better>.
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