With the Wig and Wings at His Head by Dr. Sheridan
You little scribbling beau,What demon made you write?Because to write you knowAs much as you can fight.
For compliment so scurvy,I wish we had you here;We'd turn you topsy-turvyInto a mug of beer.
You thought to make a farce onThe man and place we chose;We're sure a single parsonIs worth a hundred beaux.
And you would make us vassals,Good Mr. Wig and Wings,To silver clocks and tassels;You would, you Thing of Things!
Because around your caneA ring of diamonds is set;And you, in some by-lane,Have gain'd a paltry grisette;
Shall we, of sense refined,Your trifling nonsense bear,As noisy as the wind,As empty as the air?
We hate your empty prattle;And vow and swear 'tis true,There's more in one child's rattle,Than twenty fops like you.
Words in this poem
- scribbling n.
- The act or process of carding coarsely. Scribbing machine, the machine used for the first carding of wool or other fiber; -- called also scribbler. [See 1st Scribble.]
- grisette n.
- A French girl or young married woman of the lower class; more frequently, a young working woman who is fond of gallantry. Sterne. [F., fr. grisette a gray woolen cloth, fr. gris gray. Grisettes were so called because they wore gray gowns made of this stuff. See Gars.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
With the Wig and Wings at His Head by Dr. Sheridan is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #13621; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Jonathan Swift, With the Wig and Wings at His Head by Dr. Sheridan, in Cadenus and Vanessa, and Other Poems (1710–1745), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #13621, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/swift-poems/with-the-wig-and-wings-at-his-head-by-dr-sheridan.html, id L09429.
Form and metre
With the Wig and Wings at His Head by Dr. Sheridan is 28 lines in 7 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 6 of its 7 stanzas. The metre is iambic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 93%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 6.5 syllables. 8 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 18% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic trimeter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABAB beauA · writeB · knowA · fightB
- 2 ABAB scurvyA · hereB · turvyA · beerB
- 3 A-A- onA · chose · parsonA · beaux
- 4 ABAB vassalsA · wingsB · tasselsA · thingsB
- 5 ABAB caneA · setB · laneA · grisetteB
- 6 ABAB refinedA · bearB · windA · airB
- 7 ABAB prattleA · trueB · rattleA · youB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| You little scribbling beau, | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| What demon made you write? | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Because to write you know | 6 | ······ |
| As much as you can fight. | 6 | ······ |
| For compliment so scurvy, | 7 | ·/˘˘·/˘ |
| I wish we had you here; | 6 | ······ |
| We'd turn you topsy-turvy | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Into a mug of beer. | 6 | ······ |
| You thought to make a farce on | 7 | ······· |
| The man and place we chose; | 6 | ······ |
| We're sure a single parson | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Is worth a hundred beaux. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And you would make us vassals, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Good Mr. Wig and Wings, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| To silver clocks and tassels; | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| You would, you Thing of Things! | 6 | ······ |
| Because around your cane | 6 | ······ |
| A ring of diamonds is set; | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| And you, in some by-lane, | 6 | ······ |
| Have gain'd a paltry grisette; | 7 | ···/˘˘/ |
| Shall we, of sense refined, | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Your trifling nonsense bear, | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| As noisy as the wind, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| As empty as the air? | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| We hate your empty prattle; | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| And vow and swear 'tis true, | 6 | ······ |
| There's more in one child's rattle, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Than twenty fops like you. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.