This guide to scanning is meant to be easy for anyone to read and understand.  I want everything on this page to be simple and crystal clear.  If you are puzzled by any part of it-- if any statement is vague, opaque, or nonsensical-- please write and let me know so I can improve the guide.  (And if you do find it comprehensible, then please let me know if it gets your Seal of Approval™.)  Please write to me at eartraining (-at)- aruffo.com.  Thanks!


Part one - Analyzing poetry


This guide will show you how to interpret classical poetry and speak it naturally.  Its simple step-by-step instruction is based on principles found in Edgar Allan Poe's The Rationale of Verse.  By applying Poe's principles of rhythmic structure, any poem can be easily, logically, comprehensively analyzed-- and then, just as easily, be transformed into living, musical performance.

This guide focuses exclusively on how to understand and speak poetic text.  The instruction begins by explaining Shakespearean poetry and then proceeds to other forms.  This guide is not a complete manual of How to Perform Poetry.  To fully realize a dramatic performance, many layers of preparation exist apart from the text, such as style, character, relationship, and status.  To fully dissect any writing, poetic or otherwise, many layers of meaning exist such as irony, symbolism, theme, and metaphor.  However, developing all these layers begins with a clear understanding of the text.  This guide will provide you with a solid foundation for understanding any poetic text.

Poetry, part 1 - The basic units of poetry

To analyze poetry, you break it into parts.  Here's how.

Poems are divided into verses.  Verses, sometimes called stanzas, are the "paragraphs" of poetry.  Each verse makes a single unified statement which advances the overall theme.  A verse can be any length the writer chooses.  Here is a short verse:

I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,
The reason why, I cannot tell.

Verses are divided into lines.  A line is, literally, a single line of text.  This verse has two lines in it:

1.  I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,
2.  The reason why, I cannot tell.

Lines are divided into feet.  A foot is a single rhythmic unit.  Speak this verse out loud, and you will feel how each line naturally groups itself into four rhythmic sets.

I do | not like | thee, Doc|tor Fell,
The rea|son why, | I can|not tell.

Feet are divided into beats, or pulses of time.  Each syllable in a foot is either long or short depending on its length in beats.  A long syllable is two beats; a short syllable is one beat.

Here's how it works.  Tap a continuous three-beat rhythm (one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three...) and then start speaking the nursery rhyme I've just used, with two beats for each long syllable and one beat for each short.

.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
I    do        not  like      thee,Doc-      tor  Fell,
.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
The  rea-      son  why,      I    can-      not  tell.

The poem works.  It makes sense; it's comprehensible; it feels right.  Now, on the same three-beat rhythm, reverse the long and short syllables.

.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
I         do   not       like thee,     Doc- tor       Fell,
.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .
The       rea- son       why, I         can- not       tell.

The poem no longer works.  It doesn't make sense; the wrong words stand out; it feels all wrong.  To make a poem meaningful, the correct rhythm is necessary.

Poetry, part 2 - "Stress" is length

Poetry is created by arranging long and short syllables into patterns.  Long syllables are usually called "stressed" because they feel stronger and louder.  English is a "stress language" because words can change their meaning depending on which syllables are stressed-- for example, CONvict is a noun, while conVICT is a verb-- but "stress" is actually caused by syllable length alone.

In other words, a "stressed" syllable is not louder.  A "stressed" syllable is longer.  Loudness creates "stress" only when it makes a syllable seem longer.  For all the scientific details you can read chapter 11 of The Handbook of Speech Perception, "Lexical Stress" (Blackwell Publishing, 2008), but here is a quick demonstration using the word survey.  Depending on which syllable is stressed, survey can be either a noun or a verb ("take a SURvey" or "surVEY the landscape").

This word was first recorded with each syllable at equal volume and equal length.  This recording, digitally manipulated, is used in all these examples.

By themselves, either volume or length can produce "stress."

If the syllable lengths are the same, but the first syllable is amplified in volume, you hear SURvey.
If the syllable lengths are the same, but the second syllable is amplified in volume, you hear surVEY.

If the syllables are the same volume, but the first syllable is longer, you hear SURvey.
If the syllables are the same volume, but the second syllable is longer, you hear surVEY.

But it's length that makes the difference.

If the first syllable is loud, but the second is long, "stress" goes to the long syllable, not the loud one (surVEY).
If the second syllable is loud, but the first is long, "stress" goes to the long syllable, not the loud one (SURvey).

I had to use the word survey for this example because its vowels do not change.  Most of the time, changing stress means replacing a long vowel with a short one.  CONvict becomes conVICT by shortening the vowel of the first syllable:  "con" becomes "cun".  reCORD becomes REcord by changing both vowels to the opposite length:  "rih" to "reh," and "cord" to "cerd."  Most words that change meaning by "changing stress" do so by changing vowels.

To figure out whether a vowel is short or long, delete the vowel and say the new syllable out loud.  A long vowel will change and a short one won't.  For example, if I take the vowel away from bail, it becomes bl.  When I say bl out loud, I get bull or bill.  I can't say bl as "bail"; therefore bail must be a long vowel.  By comparison, taking the vowel away from pit gives pt; when I say pt out loud, I get pit or putt.  So I can say pt as "pit"; therefore pit must be a short vowel.  (If the vowel comes at the beginning or end, use an adjacent word; e.g., the dog = thdog or look in = lookn.)

In English, syllable length causes stress.  In poetry, length is stress-- and volume is not.  Poetry is structured in time, and stress "levels" do not apply.  Time units can only be long or short.  When you measure time, you count the number of time-units (seconds, minutes, etc).  What matters is how many you count, not how loudly you count them.  To analyze poetic rhythm, only length is conceptually appropriate.

Poetry, part 3 - Building a poem

Verses divide into lines; lines divide into feet; feet divide into beats.  The rhythmic structure of a poem is created by combining these components.

Beats combine into feet.  A long syllable is two beats and a short syllable is one beat.  Different combinations get their own crazy names, and there are six that we care about: trochee, iamb, dactyl, anapest, spondee, and pyrrhic.  The names go together in pairs, by length.

Three beats
  Long first = trochee.  (e.g.,  tar-get, 2 + 1 = 3)
  Long last = iamb.  (e.g.,  gui-tar, 1 + 2 = 3)

Four beats
 
Long first = dactyl.  (e.g.,  tol-er-ant, 2 + 1 + 1 = 4)
 
Long last = anapest.  (e.g.,  dis-in-fect, 1 + 1 + 2 = 4)

Equal syllable-lengths
Two long = spondee.  (e.g.,  now go, 2 + 2 = 4)
Two short = pyrrhic.  (e.g.,  if it, 1 + 1 = 2)

Feet combine into lines.  The quantity of feet determine the line's meter.  Three feet is trimeter, four is tetrameter, five is pentameter, six is hexameter, seven heptameter, eight octameter, and so on.  A poem with five iambs in each line is, therefore, iambic pentameter.  Both of these lines, from one of Shakespeare's sonnets, are iambic pentameter.

No lon|ger mourn | for me | when I | am dead
Than you | shall hear | the sur|ly sul|len bell

Lines combine into verses.  Usually, lines of different meters are combined into a pattern, and each repetition of that pattern is a verse.  On stage, however, it would be bizarre if each person said the same number of lines every time they spoke.  Instead, in Shakespeare's plays, any number of lines may be grouped together into a verse, but the meter never changes.  Sometimes a character will read a poem, and that poem may have its own separate meter; sometimes characters will speak in rhyming prose, which has no meter; but for Shakespearean speech written as poetry, the meter is always the same.  A verse that has one unchanging meter is called blank verse.

Not all of Shakespeare is poetry.  Much of it is prose.  Prose does not require rhythmic analysis!  You can tell the difference between prose and poetry because prose is written with normal capitalization, while poetry has a capital letter at the beginning of each line.  Here are two samples from As You Like It.

Prose
O, that's a brave man! He writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose: but all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides.

Poetry
Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved
High commendation, true applause and love,
Yet such is now the duke's condition
That he misconstrues all that you have done.
The duke is humorous; what he is indeed,
More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.

Prose text will have its own natural rhythms, but its rhythm is not deliberately structured.  If you find yourself struggling with lines which stubbornly refuse to be analyzed as poetry, they may actually be prose.  Fortunately, these days you can go right to the source, and examine digital scans of the First Folio itself, to look at the play's original text.  If they are prose, you don't need to bother analyzing their rhythm.

Poetry, part 4 - Rhythm as meaning

In your everyday talk, you use stress to convey meaning to your listener.  In English, stress draws attention to meaningful syllables.  Speak this sentence out loud with the stresses indicated:

I thought that's what you meant.

Now reverse the stresses and say it again, out loud:

I thought that's what you meant.

The meaning of the words is the same, but the meaning of the sentence is different.  Take a moment to say each one again and ask yourself, why would I say it like that?  What would it mean if you did?

Stress gives interpretative meaning to a set of words.  When you speak normally, you unconsciously use stress to draw attention to words.  Every time you talk, you convey meaning to your listener by using stress.

A poet conveys meaning to you by using time to create stress.  The rhythm of poetry shows you how a poet intends their words to be interpreted.  This is the most important reason to analyze metered poetry.

A poet uses rhythm to tell you, the performer, how to interpret the text.

Here's how.  Say this sentence out loud and notice which words you stress. If you find it hard to detect your stress pattern, try saying the sentence slowly and pay attention to which words you feel to be important:

If you want these I'll leave some there for him.

Did you say it the same way I would?  If the sentence were prose, there'd be no way for you to know.  Obviously you know what you said, but you don't know if that's what I had in mind when I wrote it.  There are many ways to vary the stress pattern of this sentence, and each one is a legitimate interpretation.  If you wanted to know what I originally meant, you'd have to ask me.

But if you knew that I wrote in iambic pentameter, you'd know exactly how I'd say it.

If you want these I'll leave some there for him.

The rhythm gives you an interpretation.  Say the sentence with these stresses.  Ask yourself, what would it mean if I said it this way?  Any reason will do as long as it makes sense.  Now say the sentence again, but say it for the reason you've just invented.  Don't bother worrying about where the stresses are supposed to be-- just say what you mean--  and you'll notice the iambic pattern is automatically there.  It has to be.  English meaning is based on stress; when you say that sentence according to the meaning you've invented, it must produce the iambic pattern.  If it came out differently, it would mean something else.  (If you want these I'll leave some there for him.)

Analyzing the rhythm of each line shows you a poet's intended meaning; naturally speaking the intended meaning automatically produces an accurate rhythm.

Poetry, part 5 - Rhythm as music

In English, stresses are evenly spaced.  You naturally speak with a steady rhythm.  Here's a sentence from the Wizard of Oz; read it out loud and notice which syllables you stress.

They walked along as fast as they could, Dorothy only stopping once to pick a beautiful flower.

There's no ambiguity here.  It would be unusual to read it any way other than this:

They walked along as fast as they could, (pause) Dorothy only stopping once to pick a beautiful flower.

Read it again, out loud, and this time feel how all the stresses are evenly spaced.  Don't force yourself to say it with any particular rhythm; just read as you normally would, and you'll naturally stress in a steady rhythm.  It's what any normal English speaker would do.

This is the natural basis for poetry.  English naturally has a steady rhythm; the purpose of a poetic meter is to set the tempo.  Here are some poetic lines with regular meters.  Say each one out loud.  You'll feel the steady rhythm in each line, and you'll feel how the time between pulses becomes faster or slower depending on the meter.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams  (anapestic tetrameter)
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning   (trochaic octameter)
Know ye the land of the cypress and myrtle    (dactylic tetrameter)
The swift and silent lizard of the stones   (iambic pentameter)

The time between pulses depends on the length of the feet.  Trochees and iambs are shorter (3 beats); dactyls and anapests are longer (4 beats); but all of their rhythms are evenly spaced.

Foot length is measured in number of beats, not number of syllables.  If I divide the Wizard of Oz sentence into feet, according to how you say it naturally, it looks like this.

They walked | along | as fast | as they could, |(pause)  Dor|othy on|ly stop|ping once | to pick | a beau|tiful flow|er.

All these feet are iambs.  Every one of them.  The first three feet are obviously iambs-- short-long, short-long, short-long-- and then, curiously, the fourth foot has three syllables.  By itself, short-short-long is an anapest, not an iamb; but with an iambic tempo already established, you don't slow down to let this foot be an anapest.  You speed it up and make it an iamb.

Three of the iambs in the sentence have three syllables instead of two.  Read the sentence one more time, out loud, and notice how when you get to those feet you automatically say the extra syllables more quickly.  You unconsciously preserve the iambic rhythm by speeding up.  Each of these feet is therefore an iamb, despite the presence of an "extra" syllable.  Each has three beats because the short syllables are not one beat.  They're half a beat.

As an English speaker, you will naturally try to speak with a steady rhythm.  When there are extra or missing syllables, you unconsciously speed up, pause, or sustain to maintain a regular pulse.  For example:

Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold,
Pease porridge in the pot, nine days old.

Some of the syllables in this poem are short, some are long, some are extra-long, and some are silent (pauses)-- but you can easily read them all with a perfectly regular beat.  It's so natural you may even find it difficult to recognize that you're speaking these syllables with different lengths.  You do this automatically to preserve a steady rhythm; a poet does it deliberately to induce one.  Syllables in a poem can be any length.  The number of beats is dictated by the meter, but the number of syllables is up to the poet.

(If you happen to be a musician, you already know this.  You already use this conceptual framework.  A foot is simply a measure.  Iambs and trochees are 3/4, while dactyls and anapests are 4/4.  A long syllable is a half note; a short syllable is a quarter note; sped-up syllables are eighths.  Sustained syllables are dotted halves and whole notes, and pauses are rests.  Analyzing poetic rhythm is nothing more than restoring the missing time signature and figuring out what time-value to assign to each syllable.)

Poetry, part 6 - The philosophy of scanning

A reader's task is to interpret and present text.  An expert interpreter finds the clearest, most effective meaning.  An expert presenter produces a compelling, naturally flowing stream of sound.  When Shakespeare writes his plays as poetry, he gives you both of these.  The purpose of rhythmic analysis-- also called scanning-- is to take advantage of a poet's expertise.  Scanning a poem gives you the deepest meaning and the most musical flow.  Scanning a poem transfers the poet's hard work directly into your performance.  Scanning a poem makes you the expert.

Scanning is a mathematical puzzle.  This guide shows you how the pieces fit together.  Yes, scanning can be tedious and time-consuming-- but it shouldn't be confusing or difficult.  You know when a sentence makes sense.  You can feel if something is easy to say.  Trust your own judgment, and you will see how easy scanning can be.

Shakespeare, part 1 - Fixed meter

In Shakespeare, you don't have to figure out the meter, because it never changes.  The meter is always iambic pentameter.

Pentameter sets the pace:  every line must be five feet long.

Iambic sets the tempo:  every foot must be three beats long.

"Iambic" does not mean that every foot is an iamb.  It means that every foot is one iamb long.  That is, every foot has three beats.  When there are more iambs than trochees, a poem is called "iambic."  When there are more trochees than iambs, a poem is called "trochaic."

The fixed meter in Shakespeare's poetry is its one unbreakable rule.  There is only the one rule, but this rule is invariant, inflexible, and intractable.  Because every line of Shakespeare is pentameter,

every line is exactly five feet long.

The number of feet equals the number of long syllables.  A line with five feet will have five long syllables-- no more, no less.

Here's an example of how this affects the scanning, using the famous line "To be or not to be, that is the question."  If I scan the line iambically, marking the long syllables and dividing the feet, it becomes

    ,       ,        ,          ,         ,
To be | or not | to be, | that is | the ques|tion.

When I say this out loud, it makes sense, and it flows nicely, but there's an extra syllable hanging off the end.  That end syllable can't be part of the previous foot; if it were, the foot would be four beats ("the question"), and iambic meter requires three.  That final syllable is orphaned, forming an incomplete sixth foot.  That final syllable breaks the meter.  It's got to be fixed.

Because this is only an example, for now I'll forego explaining the process that led me to the solution.  I will instead ask you to say the following line out loud.  The five long syllables are marked; two of the short syllables get sped up, and these are marked with a "2" to indicate their double-speed.

When you say poems out loud, focus on the steady rhythm of the long syllables.  Pay attention only to the long syllables.  If you maintain a steady rhythm between long syllables (in this case, that and ques), you will automatically speak all short and extra-short syllables at their proper speeds.

    ,       ,        ,      ,    2        ,
To be | or not | to be, | that is the | question.

The line has exactly five feet, and each foot has three beats.  Now the line fulfills the poetic meter.  Now it obeys the one rule that can't be broken.

Learning to follow this rule becomes rhythmic artistry.  For every speech you scan, you will find the most meaningful and most musical arrangement that fulfills the five-foot meter.  Let's get to it.

Shakespeare, part 2:  Restore apostrophe-deletions

Before scanning a Shakespearean verse, restore all the missing letters.  Locate every apostrophe that replaces a letter, take out the apostrophe, and put the letter back in.  I'm not referring to familiar contractions like I'm and haven't, but mangled words like e'en, turn'd, and wer't.  Mangled words need to be restored to their normal forms:  even, turned, were it This will make the poetry easier to speak and the language easier to understand.

Natural speech does not use apostrophe-mangled words.  Read these next lines out loud, and it will be easy.  You'll speed up over on the second line, just as any normal English speaker would.

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack jump over the candlestick.

Rulebooks that count syllables come up with a different solution.  They delete the "extra" syllable and replace it with an apostrophe.  Here is the same poem with an apostrophe-deletion.

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack jump o'er the candlestick.

Try saying this second version out loud.  You may certainly be able to mash the vowels of "over" into one syllable-- but it's more natural, and more musical, to say both syllables at twice the speed.  Take the apostrophe out, put the letter back in, and repair the natural flow.  It's easier to say and easier to understand.

You want your audience to understand you.  Although you could train yourself to pronounce manglings like fairs't, e'en, and to't so that they come out as single-syllabled fairst, een, and tute, these are not English words.  For your audience to understand these non-words, they would have to figure out that what you really meant to say was fairest, even, and to it-- and if that is what you mean to say, then it's easier for everyone if you just say it.  Poe adamantly advises:  "All words, at all events, should be written and pronounced in full, and as nearly as possible as nature intended them."

Shakespeare's plays are riddled with apostrophe-deletions, and you should restore every one of them you come across.  Many of these came from well-meaning editors who deleted letters when they counted the wrong number of syllables.  The rest are due to the archaic Elizabethan English in which Shakespeare wrote.  None of them are helpful for your performance.

Here's a sample monologue from Measure for Measure in which the restored apostrophe-deletions are noted.

BEFORE AFTER
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomorrow,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
Say what you can; my false o'erweighs your true.
My unsoiled name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomorrow,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.

Shakespeare, part 3:  "O'er"

If you look at Shakespeare's First Folio (available online) you will see that o'er does not exist.  Instead, there are two different words for over, depending on how many syllables are required.  When two syllables are necessary, the word is ouer; for one syllable, ore.  In most cases, to be best understood by a modern audience, I recommend saying the full word (over) using extra-short syllables when necessary.  However, because of the original usage, classical poets often rhyme o'er with other -ore words (adore, more, floor).  When this occurs, it is more important to fulfill the rhyme by saying o'er; but whenever you say o'er, be sure to say the word as the one-syllable ore (or perhaps oar), and not as the two-syllable "oh-er."

Scanning, step 1:  Metrical marking

The first step is to mark the poem metrically.  Marking your script is a practical tool, not an intellectual exercise.  A mark is placed over every rhythmically important syllable, visually drawing your attention to those syllables when you read.

These are the five marks to be used.

1.  Long syllables are marked with an accent (,).

2.  Extra-long syllables are marked with a line (—) to imply length.

3.  Extra-short syllables are marked with a number (2 3) to indicate how many syllables must be sped through to make one beat.

4.  Pauses are marked with circles of increasing size.  I use a circle because it visually implies empty space. (. = 1 beat; o = 2 beats; oo = 3 beats).

5.  Occasionally, a word of two short syllables is used in place of a single long syllable (e.g., Heaven), and an X is placed over this word to indicate the syllables' connection.

Don't mark regular short syllables.  Rhythmically and linguistically, short syllables are placeholders.  You don't want to draw your attention to them.

Foot divisions are indicated with a vertical line ( | ).  I only put these in when I'm trying to make sure a line has exactly five feet; they show how the short syllables and pauses are organized into feet, but they get in the way of reading the words.

The first scan of a verse is mathematical.  The initial goal is to make all the syllables fit the meter, and nothing more.  Each line must have exactly five feet and must make literal sense.  No other criteria apply.  The first scan is metric, not aesthetic.

Normally, a poem is scanned line by line, and the rhythm of each line is completely resolved before moving on to the next.  However, different lines create different problems; rather than load you down with dozens of examples of problem lines, I will show you how a single process resolves them all.  I will scan a monologue in a series of seven passes.  In each pass, I will apply a single change to the entire verse.  Each line affected by that change will be marked with three asterisks (***).  If a line is resolved by the change, that line will be made boldface and marked with six asterisks.  By the final pass, every line will be metrically accurate.

First pass:  divide every line into iambs.  That is, start each line with a short syllable, and then alternate long and short syllables to the end of the line.  Because Shakespeare is iambic pentameter, much of the poem will make sense from this alone.

    ,         ,        ,      ,       ,
My unsoiled name, the austereness of my life,
     ,       ,         ,       ,       ,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
      ,       ,   ,     ,    ,              ***
Will so your accusation overweigh,          ***
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,      ***
That you shall stifle in your own report    ***
      ,       ,    ,     ,      ,           ***
And smell of calumny. I have begun,         ***
     ,      ,      ,   ,        ,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,
     ,       ,      ,        ,    ,         ***
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,       ***
     ,      ,   ,       ,    ,        ,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
      ,       ,        ,        ,      ,       ,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,           ***
By yielding up thy body to my will,         ***
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,        ***
Or else he must not only die the death,     ***
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,  ***
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out ***
     ,    ,      ,        ,     ,     ,
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomorrow,
    ,      ,     ,        ,          ,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,       ***
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,     ***
      ,       ,        ,      ,         ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.

Half of the poem already fits the meter.  Eight lines down, eight to go.

Second pass:  find and fix any mispronounced words.

    ,         ,           ,           ,
My unsoiled name, the austereness of my life,  ***
     ,       ,         ,       ,       ,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
      ,       ,   ,     ,    ,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,
That you shall stifle in your own report
      ,       ,    ,     ,      ,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
     ,      ,      ,            ,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,  ***
     ,       ,      ,        ,    ,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
     ,      ,   ,         ,        ,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes   ***
      ,       ,        ,           ,   ,    ,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother  ***
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,
Or else he must not only die the death,
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
     ,        ,           ,     ,     ,
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomorrow,  ***
    ,         ,           ,          ,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,  ***
       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
      ,       ,        ,         ,      ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.  ***

Third pass:  look for extra-short syllables on the lines just changed.  Fixing mispronounced words changes the order of long and short, and short syllables now appear next to each other.  Check to see if any of these pairs can be sped up.

    ,         ,      2    ,           ,
My unsoiled name, the austereness of my life,  ***
     ,       ,         ,       ,       ,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
      ,       ,   ,     ,    ,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,
That you shall stifle in your own report
      ,       ,    ,     ,      ,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
     ,      ,      ,  2         ,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,  ***
     ,       ,      ,        ,    ,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes   ***
      ,       ,        ,           ,   ,    ,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,
Or else he must not only die the death,
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
     ,   2    ,    2      ,     ,     ,
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomorrow,  ***
    ,    2    ,           ,          ,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,  ***
       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
      ,       ,        ,     2   ,      ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.  ***

Fourth pass:  Re-scan the same lines as iambs, now taking the extra-short syllables into account.

    ,         ,      2    ,        ,     ,     ***
My unsoiled name, the austereness of my life,  ***
     ,       ,         ,       ,       ,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
      ,       ,   ,     ,    ,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,
That you shall stifle in your own report
      ,       ,    ,     ,      ,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
     ,      ,      ,  2     ,        ,         ***
And now I give my sensual race the rein,       ***
     ,       ,      ,        ,    ,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
      ,       ,        ,           ,   ,    ,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,
Or else he must not only die the death,
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
     ,   2    ,    2      ,     ,     ,
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomorrow,
    ,    2    ,       ,         ,       ,        ***
Or by the affection that now guides me most,     ***
       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
      ,       ,        ,     2    ,          ,   ***
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true. ***

Twelve lines down, four to go.

Fifth pass:  Look for long syllables that fall on unimportant words.  Sometimes an unimportant word should be extra-short; sometimes an iamb should be reversed into a trochee.  A trochee can always be substituted for an iamb because iambs and trochees are the same length.

    ,         ,      2    ,        ,     ,
My unsoiled name, the austereness of my life,
     ,       ,         ,       ,     2      ,     ***
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,  ***
      ,       ,   ,     ,    ,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,
That you shall stifle in your own report
      ,       ,    ,     ,      ,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
     ,      ,      ,  2     ,        ,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,
     ,       ,      ,        ,    ,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
      ,       ,        ,           ,        ,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother  ***
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,
Or else he must not only die the death,
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
     ,   2    ,    2      ,     ,     ,
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomorrow,
    ,    2    ,       ,         ,       ,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
      ,       ,        ,     2    ,          ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.

As you can see, finding the sped-up syllables will solve most of your problems.  Thirteen of the sixteen lines in this verse are now regular iambic lines.

The remaining three lines still do not have exactly five feet.  They all seem to have extra syllables that can't be sped up or switched around.  Fortunately, two of these three lines are easy to fix, but only after you recognize one fact that I haven't yet mentioned:

A poem is continuous.

Verses are divided into lines only on the printed page.  When spoken, lines blend together in an ongoing flow of steady rhythm.  In Shakespeare you'll often encounter a line that seems to have an additional short syllable inexplicably tacked on at the end.  Poe's essay has the solution:  rhythmically, that extra syllable belongs to the next line.  It's hanging off the end of the line you're scanning because it belongs there grammatically.  Metrically, it's part of the following line.

Here's one of the lines with a tacked-on syllable.  I've marked the feet divisions so you can see that, if not for that final syllable, it would be a regular iambic line.

     ,    2    ,     2      ,       ,     ,    
To lin|gering suf|ferance: an|swer me |tomor|row

If I join this line with the next, then between them both I get exactly ten iambic feet.  (I had to shrink the font size because the complete line is too wide for many browsers; if your browser doesn't render this properly, try writing it on a piece of paper off-screen.)

     ,    2    ,     2      ,       ,      ,     2    ,       2   ,         ,          ,          ,
To lin|gering suf|ferance: an|swer me | tomor|row, Or by | the affec|tion that | now guides | me most,

Which means that the two lines are actually, rhythmically, exactly five feet each:

     ,    2    ,     2      ,       ,     ,    
To lin|gering suf|ferance: an|swer me |tomor-
   2    ,     2     ,       ,          ,          ,
Row or by |the affect|ion that | now guides | me most,

Grammatically, it is impractical for words to be visually fragmented like this.  Rhythmically, this arrangement makes perfect sense.  That's why you will frequently see an extra short syllable tacked on the end of a line, or occasionally see an extra syllable at the beginning of a line.  Every time you see an extra syllable at either end of a line, check to see if it belongs on the adjacent line.  Which leads to the...

Sixth pass:  move the extra end-syllables to the lines where they belong, double-speeding when necessary.

    ,         ,      2    ,        ,     ,
My unsoiled name, the austereness of my life,
     ,       ,         ,       ,     2      ,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
      ,       ,   ,      ,    ,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,
That you shall stifle in your own report
      ,       ,    ,     ,      ,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
     ,      ,      ,  2     ,        ,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,
     ,       ,      ,        ,    ,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,     2->  ***
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blush|es     ***

      ,       ,        ,           ,        ,     2->
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy broth|er   ***
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,
Or else he must not only die the death,
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
     ,   2    ,    2      ,     ,     ,     2->  ***
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomor|row,    ***
    ,    2    ,       ,         ,       ,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
      ,       ,        ,     2    ,          ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.

Fifteen of the sixteen lines are now revealed to be regular iambic pentameter.  Only one line remains to be fixed.  After the first six passes, only one problem could remain:  a line is the wrong length.

Seventh pass:  Adjust the length of a line.  When a line is the wrong length, look for syllables that can be lengthened or shortened.

Any short syllable can be lengthened by stressing or sustaining it.  Adding stress changes the interpretation, though, so say the line aloud to be sure it still makes sense.  For example, you can add stress to the second syllable of brother, but doing so changes the word from a noun to an interjection.

The simplest way to shorten a long syllable is to shorten its vowel.  Many English words can be spoken with different vowels.  You will be understood if you say either take a card or tek uh cerd.  When you shorten vowels, always read each changed word out loud to ensure it can be understood.

The other way to shorten a long syllable is to transfer its final letter to the next syllable.  Because speech is continuous, spoken words blend together; by themselves, the words watch, out, don't, and try all have long vowels, but watch out and don't try are both iambs.  The first syllable gives its final letter to the second.  Watch out is spoken as wa chout; don't try is spoken as doan try.  When a word's long vowel can't be shortened (e.g., glide down or why only), try transferring its final sound to the next word (gli down, wha yonly).

Here's the final problem line, with foot divisions, incorporating the last syllable from the previous line and losing its own last syllable to the following line.

  2      ,        ,          ,        ?    ,          , 
es That ban|ish what | they sue | for: redeem | thy bro

This line is one beat too long.  It seems like you could mark a 2 where I've put a question mark, except you can't say it out loud that way.  Try it-- the vowels shorten, the r's merge, and it comes out unintelligibly as "fruhdeem."

One beat must be eliminated.  Since no other short syllables are next to each other, one of the long syllables will have to be made short.  Check every syllable until you find the one that can be shortened.  You can't shorten the long syllables in banish, redeem, or brother without ruining the words.  This leaves sue and what.  If I replace the vowel in sue it becomes suh, which will not be understood, but the vowel in what is normally short.  Therefore, what must be short, and I have to make it fit the meter.

  2      ,                 ,             ,          , 
es That ban|ish what they sue for: | redeem | thy bro

The problem is mathematical.  If you double-speed the syllables ish what, then for must be made short.  For becomes fer, but since it's not double-speed it no longer sounds like fruhdeem.

  2      ,     2       ,     ,             ,          , 
es That ban|ish what they | sue for: | redeem | thy bro

Or, if you triple-speed the three short syllables, you can use a pause as the long syllable of the next foot.

  2      ,     3    3      ,         o       ,          , 
es That ban|ish what they sue | for:   | redeem | thy bro

When you have more than one mathematical option, try reading the line in context.  Read it each possible way out loud.  Whichever one makes more sense to you, that's the one to pick.

     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,     2->
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blush|es
      ,     2       ,     ,             ,          , 
That ban|ish what they | sue for: | redeem | thy bro

Or

     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,     2->
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blush|es
       ,    3    3      ,         o       ,          , 
That ban|ish what they sue | for:   | redeem | thy bro

I prefer the second option, with the triple-short syllables and the long pause.

So, from seven passes, I have created this scan:

    ,         ,      2    ,        ,     ,
My unsoiled name, the austereness of my life,
     ,       ,         ,       ,     2      ,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
      ,       ,   ,      ,    ,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,
That you shall stifle in your own report
      ,       ,    ,     ,      ,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
     ,      ,      ,  2     ,        ,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,
     ,       ,      ,        ,    ,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,     2->
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blush|es
      ,    3    3      ,      o    ,        ,     2->
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy broth|er
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,
Or else he must not only die the death,
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
     ,   2    ,    2      ,     ,     ,     2->
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomorr|ow,
    ,    2    ,       ,         ,       ,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
      ,       ,        ,     2    ,          ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.

All sixteen lines now have exactly five feet of three beats each.  All sixteen lines now fit the meter.

To summarize:  metrical scanning has these seven steps.

1.  Use alternating syllables to make every line into iambs.
2.  Find and fix mispronounced words.
3.  Look for extra-short syllables created by what you've just fixed.
4.  Re-scan those same lines as iambs.
5.  Look for long syllables on unimportant words.
6.  Move "extra" end-syllables to the line where they rhythmically belong.
7.  Shorten or lengthen syllables to fix a line that is too long or too short.

I applied them one at a time to an entire verse, but normally you'll fix each line before moving to the next.  These steps should be the fastest, most reliable way to make all your lines satisfy the poetic meter.  Few lines will require all seven, but the sequence represents the thought process you'll need to ensure an accurate metric scan.

Scanning, step 2:  Interpretative marking

Once you have an accurate metric scan, you must look for deviant lines.  Deviant lines contain syllables marked with an unnatural length.  Shakespeare created deviant lines for many reasons-- create an impact, imply an emotion, emphasize an idea-- but you don't need to know why.  To find deviant lines, just look for syllables marked with the wrong length:

1.  Either a naturally long syllable (e.g., green) has been marked short, or
2.  An important word has been marked short.

Consider the second line of this example from Love's Labours Lost.

A wightly wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and by heaven, one that will do the deed

Scanned regularly, the line is

      ,            ,            ,         ,          ,
With two | pitch balls | stuck in | her face | for eyes

And this makes perfect sense.  There are two balls; these balls are in her face; they serve as her eyes.  But-- eyes are normally found in a face.  It is not important for the balls to be in her face; it is important that the balls have been stuck there.  That is, stuck is important, but has been marked short.  This is Reason #2 above, so I can make this change.

      ,            ,       ,              ,          ,
With two | pitch balls | stuck in | her face | for eyes

When you make a change for Reason #2, always double-check that you haven't violated Reason #1.  For example, if you decide that balls aren't particularly interesting, but goopy tarry pitch is, you might want to make this change:

      ,      ,             ,              ,          ,
With two | pitch balls | stuck in | her face | for eyes

This change violates the natural length of these two words.  Pitch normally has a short vowel (ptch), but balls changes when shortened (blls) and becomes unintelligible.  Although Reason #2 would allow you to make the change, Reason #1 would require you to change it right back again.

And in any case, no change can be made that violates the golden rule:  Don't break the pentameter.  Each line must have five feet of three beats each (remember that a long syllable is 2 beats).  There can be no anapests and no dactyls in an iambic tempo, because those feet are four beats each.  If you see something that appears to be an anapest or a dactyl, the two short syllables should be sped up to make the foot an iamb or trochee.

You can, however, use a pyrrhic/spondee pair.  A pyrrhic/spondee pair can replace two iambs because they are mathematically equal.  Two iambs are six beats.  A pyrrhic is two short syllables (two beats), and a spondee is two long syllables (four beats).  One pyrrhic plus one spondee equals six beats total.  Here is an example from Henry IV Part One.  Scanned regularly, it does make sense.

      ,            ,      ,      ,         ,
And like | bright met|al on | a sul|len ground

However, bright should be a long syllable.  Reason #1:  The word bright is naturally long; saying it quickly (brt) produces brit or brut.  Reason #2:  it is important; bright is a direct contrast to sullen.  But you can't just flip the foot into a trochee because then metal would be mispronounced.  Instead, you can use a pyrrhic/spondee pair.

         ,                    ,          = 6 beats  (iamb + iamb)
 and    like       |  bright met

                 ,            ,          = 6 beats  (pyrrhic + spondee)
 and    like | bright        met

Because 1 pyrrhic + 1 spondee = 6 beats, 1 pyrrhic + 1 spondee = 2 iambs.  If I replace the two iambs here with a pyrrhic/spondee pair, the line makes sense, it flows more easily, and it still has exactly five feet of three beats each.  Short words like that, an, like, etc., are often unimportant, so it doesn't matter if they aren't fully pronounced (thet, un, lek); it's usually easier to use a pyrrhic/spondee combination than to rack your brain for a reason why you'd lengthen an unimportant word.  When marking a pyrrhic/spondee pair I use a forward slash instead of a vertical line.

              ,    ,      ,      ,        ,
And like / bright met|al on | a sul|len ground

Spondees and pyrrhics must always be paired!  A spondee/pyrrhic pair works rhythmically because 2 + 4 = 6.  If you place a foot in between, it creates a pyrrhic/iamb pair (2 + 3 = 5) and an iamb/spondee pair (3 + 4 = 7).  Neither of these pairs satisfy an iambic tempo.

Different people can interpret the same poem differently.  If you and I interpret different words to be important, we will end up with different scans-- but as long as each of our scans fulfills the pentameter, each is a legitimate interpretation.  I will now proceed to check the sample monologue, line by line, looking for incorrect syllable lengths.

In the first four lines, all syllables are marked with their correct lengths.  Although soiled is normally long, I can shorten it by merging its final d with the n of name.

    ,         ,      2    ,        ,     ,
My unsoiled^name, the austereness of my life,
     ,       ,         ,       ,     2      ,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
      ,       ,   ,      ,    ,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,
That you shall stifle in your own report

In the next line, "I have begun" feels strange.  Neither syllable in that foot is obviously the wrong length (Reason #1), so I'll figure out which word is more important (Reason #2) by considering the two different interpretations.

      ,         ,     ,       ,        ,
And smell | of cal|umny. | I have | begun,

or

      ,         ,     ,    ,           ,
And smell | of cal|umny. | I have | begun,

Which is more meaningful in context?  I would say "I have begun" if she believed I hadn't, but from the context I don't have any indication that she believed this.  I would say "I have begun" to tell her that I'm already prepared and she hasn't even had time to think.  Considering that I've just been telling her exactly this fact, I must be more important than have.  Because of Reason #2, I will change the line to "I have begun."

The syllables in the following line are all marked with the correct length.

     ,      ,      ,  2     ,        ,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,

In the next line I feel the word sharp should be important, but it is not marked as long.

     ,         ,        ,          ,    ,
Fit thy | consent | to my | sharp ap|petite,

To make sharp long, I would need to adjust neighboring syllables to preserve the meter.  Appetite and consent can't be changed, so if I want to make sharp long, I have to do it this way.

     ,         ,      2     ,     o  ,    ,
Fit thy | consent | to my sharp |   ap|petite,

Unfortunately, this change violates Reason #2.  My is an important word.  The metrical marking contrasts your consent and my appetite; shortening my removes that contrast.  I cannot lengthen sharp and must leave the line as marked.

In the next six lines, all syllable lengths are marked correctly.

     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,     2->
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blush|es
      ,    3    3      ,      o    ,        ,     2->
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy broth|er
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,
Or else he must not only die the death,
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
     ,   2    ,    2      ,     ,     ,     2->
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomor|row,

The next line violates Reason #1 with the word now.

    ,      2    ,        ,          ,          ,
Or by | the affec|tion that | now guides | me most,

The vowel in now is normally long.  If I say now guides as an iamb, the shortened vowel makes it nuh guides.  If now is unimportant, that's okay, and I can say it as currently marked-- but even so, it's not easy to make myself say nuh guides.  I would prefer instead to make now long.  I can do this with a pyrrhic/spondee pair.  The vowel in that becomes short (tht), but the word is easily understood.

    ,      2    ,              ,    ,          ,
Or by | the affec|tion that / now guides | me most,

The next-to-last line has correct syllable lengths.

       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,

The last line also violates Reason #1 in the first foot.  Say is normally long and what is normally short.

      ,       ,        ,     2    ,          ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.

 ,            ,        ,     2    ,          ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.

I don't gain or lose any meaning from making a change.  In the first version I'm telling her that any words she could think of would be useless; in the second, that the act of speaking would be useless.  These warnings are equally threatening.  I will make the change, then, because of Reason #1.  It's easier to lengthen say than stress what.

The final scan is now ready for performance.

    ,         ,      2    ,        ,     ,
My unsoiled^name, the austereness of my life,
     ,       ,         ,       ,     2      ,
My vouch against you, and my place in the state,
      ,       ,   ,      ,    ,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
      ,         ,      ,       ,     ,
That you shall stifle in your own report
      ,       ,    ,  ,         ,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
     ,      ,      ,  2     ,        ,
And now I give my sensual race the rein,
     ,       ,      ,        ,    ,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
     ,      ,   ,    2    ,        ,     2->
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blush|es
      ,    3    3      ,      o    ,        ,     2->
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy broth|er
     ,       ,      ,    ,      ,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
     ,      ,        ,    ,        ,
Or else he must not only die the death,
     ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
     ,   2    ,    2      ,     ,     ,     2->
To lingering sufferance: answer me tomor|row,
    ,    2    ,             ,     ,       ,
Or by the affection that / now guides me most,
       ,      ,      ,       ,      ,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
 ,            ,        ,     2    ,          ,
Say what you can; my false overweighs your true.

Scanning, part 3:  The basic toolkit

In summary, these are the rhythmic variations employed in scanning:

1.  Reverse the foot (e.g., iambs into trochees or dactyls into anapests).
2.  Double- or triple-speed short syllables.
3.  Make a long syllable extra-long.
4.  Share syllables between adjacent lines.
5.  Insert a pause (pauses can be any length).
6.  Combine feet into pyrrhic/spondee pairs.

If you get stuck, check this list.  One of these items will solve your problem.  With practice, however, you will no longer need to be reminded of your choices.  They will become second nature.

While short syllables may be double- or triple-speed, they can't be quadruple-speed.  Four quadruple-speed syllables are two beats.  Added to a long syllable (two beats), they create a four-beat foot, which is too long for an iambic meter.

Finally, if you decide to insert pauses, remember that every pause must be meaningful.  In natural speech, people don't stop and start talking for no reason.  While it may seem the simplest mathematical solution to fix a short line by sticking in a pause, an unmotivated pause is a dead moment on stage.  Perhaps you pause to let a point sink in, or to take an action ("see what's stuck to my shoe"), or simply to breathe.  Any reason to pause will work, but there must be one. 

Scanning, part 4:  Shared lines

Sometimes the first or last line of a speech is obviously the wrong number of feet.  When you notice this, check to see if another character completes the line.  Here's an example from As You Like It.  The first character speaks three feet and stops; a second speaks the final two feet.

               ,         ,         ,
Celia:     I faint | almost | to death. |
                                              ,          ,
Touchstone:                               Holla, | you clown!

An editor may visually displace shared lines, which makes them easy to spot.  But beware:  plenty of shared lines don't get displaced.

The editor of the Norton Shakespeare has laid out some lines of Hamlet like this:

Marcellus: It is offended.
Barnardo:                 See, it stalks away.
Horatio:   Stay, speak, speak, I charge thee speak.
Marcellus: 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Barnardo:  How now, Horatio?  You tremble and look pale.

The first two characters' lines are visually displaced.  If they are shared, the first two poetic lines have exactly five feet.  (Remember that extra-long syllables are three beats each, which is an entire foot.)

               ,       ,
Marcellus: It is | offen|ded.
                                ,          ,       ,
Barnardo:                     See, | it stalks | away.
            __       __       ,   .       ,             ,
Horatio:   Stay, | speak, | speak,  | I charge | thee speak.

The next two lines appear to be regular iambic lines, but they both have the wrong number of feet.  The first line has three and a half feet, and the second line has six.

             2     ,           ,         ,
Marcellus: It is gone, | and will | not an|swer.
                ,        ,   ,          ,              ,    ,
Barnardo:  How now, | Hora|tio? | You trem|ble and / look pale.

If the lines are shared, the meter is fixed.  Both lines have five feet each.  (Remember that an open circle represents a long-syllable pause.)

             2     ,          ,         ,       o
Marcellus: It is gone, | and will | not an|swer.  |
                                                          ,
Barnardo:                                            How now,
              ,   ,           ,              ,    ,
           Hora|tio?  | You trem|ble and / look pale.

When Shakespeare has actors share lines, he is telling them how a scene should be paced.  Imagine you were performing Barnardo's role in this Hamlet scene.  The poetry says you must pause after Marcellus' line.  What would you do in that silent moment?  Shakespeare put a pause there to prompt you to do that.

Shared lines can induce comedic pacing as well as provide dramatic pauses.  Here are some lines from As You Like It, which look like this in the Norton Shakespeare:

Rosalind:  Peace, fool, he's not thy kinsman.
Corin:  Who calls?
Touchstone:  Your betters, sir.
Corin:  Else are they very wretched.
Rosalind:  Peace, I say.  Good even to you, friend.

If these lines were prose, you wouldn't have to worry about them.  But the lines all around them are poetry, and you can therefore be sure that these are poetry too.  Every one of them is too short for pentameter, however, so all of them must be shared.

              __      __           ,         ,      2
Rosalind:   Peace, | fool, | he's not | thy kin|sman.      ,
Corin:                                               Who calls?
                  ,         ,
Touchstone: Your bet|ters, sir. |
                                    ,              ,      ,     ->
Corin:                            Else are | they ve|ry wretch|ed.
              ,         ,          ,      ,           ,
Rosalind:   Peace, | I say. | Good e|ven to | you, friend.

Shakespeare uses shared lines here to induce tight comedic pacing.  To preserve the poetic meter, Corin must respond rapidly with an extra-short syllable, so that calls falls into the same steady rhythm established by not thy kinsman.  Rosalind must quickly finish the foot that Corin's final short syllable begins.  Shakespeare is telling the actors that he wants them to speak rapidly over each other and not pause in between.

Scanning, part 5:  Punctuation

Ignore punctuation.  Punctuation is visual, not auditory.  To the eye, punctuation represents sentence structure; to the ear, it represents nothing at all.  Punctuation does not make rhythmic choices for you; your metrical scan does that.  Punctuation does not make phrasing choices for you; your interpretative scan does that.  Rhythm dictates meaning; punctuation merely reflects it.  Punctuation exists on the printed page solely because grammar requires it.

If you need to convince yourself to ignore punctuation, get different editions of the same Shakespeare play and compare them.  None of them will have the same punctuation.  Here, from three different sources, is that same Measure for Measure monologue.

Plain-text online source (1993) Norton Shakespeare (1997) First Folio (1623)

My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
And now I give my sensual race the rein:
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will;
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,
Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.

My unsoiled name, th' austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' th' state,
Will so your accusation overweigh
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
And now I give my sensual race the rein.
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite.
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
That banish what they sue for.  Redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To ling'ring sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.

My unsoild name, th' austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
Will so your accusation over-weigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,
And now I give my sensual race, the rein,
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
That banish what they sue for:  redeem thy brother,
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingring sufferance: Answer me to-morrow,
Or by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
Say what you can; my false, ore-weighs your true.

Punctuation is applied by editors.  Following punctuation pleases the editor of whichever edition you happen to be using.  Scanning satisfies Shakespeare's original rhythmic intentions.  Ignore punctuation-- or, better yet, change the punctuation to reflect your scan.

This includes the accent mark editors often place over the -ed ending.  If you see words like wingčd, advisčd, restrainčd, and so on, ignore the č.  These accent marks were added by editors who thought the -ed of that particular word would need to be its own short syllable, as in this line from Measure for Measure.

    ,       ,       ,             ,            ,
To be | receiv|čd plain, | I'll speak | more gross.

Ignore any accent over an -ed ending.  For one, it's rhythmically redundant.  At the grocery store I spotted a slogan posted by the rotisserie chickens.  Say it out loud:

Hot.  Fresh.  Ready to go.

It's practically impossible to say those first two words without pausing after each one.  Also notice how you speed through "ready to go" so that, when you say this slogan, you speak four pulses of steady rhythm.  If syllables are added in place of pauses, you still produce the same four pulses in the same steady rhythm:

Hot and fresh and ready to go.

The rhythm is identical-- but now there's more of a flow to the words.  Looking again at the Measure for Measure line, and speaking it both ways, you can feel how the rhythm stays the same whether or not you say -ed as its own syllable.  It's the flow that changes.

    ,       ,       ,             ,            ,
To be | receiv|čd plain, | I'll speak | more gross.
    ,        ,     .   ,             ,            ,
To be | received |   plain, | I'll speak | more gross.

Ignore the č when you see it.  Make your own choice.  An -ed ending can be either a short syllable or a brief pause, and either one is rhythmically valid.  Let your natural feeling of flow decide which one you want to use.

Scanning, part 6:  Scanning versus natural reading

If you want to interpret blank verse according to a poet's original intentions, you cannot start by reading it naturally.  You must start by scanning it metrically.  Only after you have completed a metrical scan should you attempt to read it naturally-- by following the scan.  Because scanning is mathematical, prescriptive, and tedious, actors often tell me that they prefer to start by reading naturally; their natural scan is "almost" like the metrical scan, they tell me, and so they feel more comfortable with reading first and then making adjustments to better satisfy the poetry.  For blank verse, though, this approach is backwards.

The fact is, any piece of blank verse can be interpreted-- and performed well-- with no regard for the intended meter.  You can impose your own interpretation onto the words, mark your interpretation, and perform your interpretation instead of the poet's.  If you are skilled enough, no one will know or care that the poetic structure has been ignored.  I took a Shakespeare class in which this excerpt from Henry V was offered as an example of scanning.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the walls up with our English dead!
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger.
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage.

But we were given an aesthetic interpretation, not a metrical scan.  Regular pentameter was ignored.  Each line varied between four and eight long syllables, and no foot divisions were indicated anywhere.

  ,   ,               ,      ,     ,       ,    ,
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
     ,          ,   ,           ,        ,
Or close the walls up with our English dead!
     ,            ,       ,      ,     ,
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
    ,       ,              ,   ,
As modest stillness and humility:
      ,        ,       ,    ,            ,
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
      ,    ,      ,             ,
Then imitate the action of the tiger.
  ,          ,  ,    ,      ,       ,
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
     ,     ,   ,            ,   ,        ,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage.

The speech, as marked, violates iambic pentameter in practically every line-- and, as such, the speech is no longer Shakespearean poetry.  It is a reworked reinterpretation of what had been Shakespearean poetry.  This speech can be read with this marking and still be meaningful and compelling, but only if an actor is skilled enough to successfully supplant and overwhelm the true poetic meter.

A blank meter exists to provide you with a poet's interpretation.  When you read without acknowledging the meter, you are ignoring the poet's interpretation and imposing your own.  While there is nothing strictly wrong with taking your own approach-- if your audience is entertained, they won't care-- a strictly-metered scan is the only method of divining a poet's original intention.

The iambic pentameter in Shakespeare is never violated.  Full poems of a different meter are occasionally inserted (e.g., Hamlet's trimetric "Doubt thou the stars are fire"), but poetic dialogues and monologues are always pentameter.  It is tempting for an actor to allow extra feet, missing syllables, or other irregularities, and dismiss the problems with a shrug, saying "Shakespeare must have written it that way," but Shakespeare's poetry has no metric irregularities.  Every line of iambic pentameter is five feet of three beats each.  If you do find structural irregularities, they are not Shakespeare's deviations-- they are yours.

The passage from Henry V can be scanned as iambic pentameter in the following manner:

     ,   ,                   ,              ,              ,
1  Once more / unto | the breach, | dear friends, | once more,
        ,            ,     ,             ,         ,
2  Or close | the walls | up with | our Eng|lish dead!
        ,              ,        ,        ,       ,
3  In peace | there's noth|ing so | becomes | a man
       ,        ,         ,       ,    ,
4  As mod|est still|ness and | humil|ity:
         ,          ,         ,      ,              ,
5  But when | the blast | of war | blows in | our ears,
         ,     ,       ,     3  3     ,      o
6  Then im|itate |the ac|tion of the ti|ger.
     ,            ,        ,       ,         ,
7  Stiffen | the sin|ews, sum|mon up | the blood,
        ,           ,               ,   ,         ,
8  Disguise | fair na|ture with / hard-fav|ored rage.

Note, line 1:  In the final foot, once can be shortened by giving its final consonant to the following syllable:  one smore instead of once more.
Note, lines 1 and 8:  In British dialect, the final r is silent in dear and fair, making them short syllables.  North American speakers can neglect the r without losing intelligibility.

You now have all the information you need to scan any piece of Shakespearean poetry.  The more you scan, the easier the process will become.

Scanning, part 7:  Non-blank poetry

When poetry is metered, but not blank, you actually do begin your scan by reading it naturally.

The goal of scanning non-blank poetry is to figure out the meter of each line.  Poets are fully aware that you don't know the meter, and they construct their poems to automatically create the meter when read aloud.  Indeed, you can read non-blank poetry without scanning anything.  The value of scanning non-blank poetry is to maximize a poem's musical value; formal scanning can detect rhythms and regularities which escape casual attention.

Step One:  Read the poem naturally and mark all the long syllables you find.

This example is the first verse of "Eulalie" by Edgar Allan Poe.

I dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride--
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.

It would be unusual to read these lines any way other than this:

    ,      ,
I dwelt alone
       ,        ,
In a world of moan,
         ,          ,        ,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
           ,       ,      ,    ,     ,       ,        ,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride--
           ,       ,     ,    ,    ,     ,       ,       ,
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.

Step Two:  Mark the foot divisions.

Every short syllable "belongs" to a long syllable.  To mark feet divisions, group short and long syllables together.  No short syllable should be left by itself.

    ,        ,
I dwelt | alone
       ,          ,
In a world | of moan,
         ,            ,         ,
And my soul | was a stag|nant tide,
           ,         ,       ,     ,       ,         ,         ,
Till the fair | and gen|tle Eu|lalie | became | my blush|ing bride--
           ,        ,       !    ,     ,       ,         ,        ,
Till the yel|low-haired | young Eu|lalie | became | my smi|ling bride.

You will often find syllables that are surrounded by others of equal length (as "young" in the final line).  Indicate these for closer attention and proceed to Step Three.

Step Three:  Conform the feet on each line.

English is naturally spoken with a steady rhythm.  Therefore, on a single line, all feet must be the same length.  Pick a tempo for each line (three or four beats) and adjust the syllable lengths to fit.

The first three lines could be three beats in every line (hear it read):

    ,        ,
I dwelt | alone
  2    ,          ,
In a world | of moan,
   2     ,       2    ,           ,
And my soul | was a stag | nant tide,

Or four beats in every line (hear it read):

>   ,       __
I dwelt | alone
       ,         __
In a world | of moan,
         ,            ,          __
And my soul | was a stag | nant tide,

The new mark featured here (>) represents a single long syllable taking the place of two short.  The resulting foot is technically a spondee, but > indicates the syllable of lesser importance.

Or change tempo between lines (hear it read):

    ,        ,
I dwelt | alone
  2    ,          ,
In a world | of moan,
         ,            ,         .   ,
And my soul | was a stag | nant   tide,

Once you have established a steady beat, it is often difficult to break out of that rhythm.  If you decide to mark a change in tempo, be careful to actually do so when reading aloud; otherwise, always mark your scan with a consistent tempo.

The final two lines of the verse seem to be three beats each.  "Young" can be made short by giving its final consonant to the following syllable.

    2      ,         ,       ,     ,       ,         ,         ,
Till the fair | and gen|tle Eu|lalie | became | my blush|ing bride--
    2      ,        ,            ,     ,       ,         ,        ,
Till the yel|low-haired | young Eu|lalie | became | my smi|ling bride.

Step Four:  Conform lines to each other.

In this step, you must decide whether or not lines are symmetrical.  That is, you must decide which lines have the same number of feet as each other.  Human perception responds to symmetry; asymmetric figures do not feel the same as symmetric figures.  Say the following lines out loud, each with a steady rhythm, and compare how each verse makes you feel.

One, two, three,
Four, five, six.

or

One, two, three,
Four, five, six, seven.

or

One, two, three,
Four.

Each of these verses feels differently because of symmetry.  A skilled poet deliberately uses symmetry to induce emotion.  Furthermore, poets can make you pause by manipulating your natural desire for symmetry.  When you read these numbers, did you pause after "three"?  Most people will.  It is more satisfying to read "One, two, three, [pause]; four, five, six." because then the first line is rhythmically symmetrical-- two equal feet (both spondees).  In fact, if you pause after "three", you will also pause after "six" to make the lines symmetrical with each other.  In the second verse, "seven" feels uncomfortable because it adds only one extra syllable, which is asymmetrical.

If you pause after "three", you should feel the symmetry of the following verse.

One, two, three,
Four, five, seven.

Your natural desire for symmetry is powerfully exploited in the third line of Eulalie.  Regardless of whether you are reading the poem as iambs or anapests, it is next to impossible to read the poem naturally without pausing after "tide."  The first two lines establish an even number of feet.  For the next line to be symmetrical, there must be a fourth foot.  You create this foot by pausing.

    ,        ,
I dwelt | alone
  2    ,          ,
In a world | of moan,
   2     ,       2    ,           ,      oo
And my soul | was a stag | nant tide, |
    2      ,         ,       ,     ,       ,         ,         ,
Till the fair | and gen|tle Eu|lalie | became | my blush|ing bride

For the same reason, the fourth and fifth lines are not heptameter (seven feet).  They are octameter (eight feet).  Your natural sense of symmetry makes you pause to fulfill the pattern.  Rhythmic symmetry, not language, is the sole cause; you can easily make the pauses disappear by filling the missing feet with meaningless words.

    ,        ,
I dwelt | alone
  2    ,          ,
In a world | of moan,
   2     ,       2    ,           ,           ,
And my soul | was a stag | nant tide, | you know,
    2      ,         ,       ,     ,       ,         ,         ,          ,
Till the fair | and gen|tle Eu|lalie | became | my blush|ing bride | you bet
    2      ,        ,            ,     ,       ,         ,        ,          ,
Till the yel|low-haired | young Eu|lalie | became | my smi|ling bride | she was.

Always mark pauses.  Pauses are critical to rhythmic symmetry.  There is no such thing as an "incomplete" foot.  When you speak, you insert pauses to replace missing syllables.

    ,        ,
I dwelt | alone
  2    ,          ,
In a world | of moan,
   2     ,       2    ,           ,      oo
And my soul | was a stag | nant tide, |
    2      ,         ,       ,     ,       ,         ,         ,    oo
Till the fair | and gen|tle Eu|lalie | became | my blush|ing bride|--
    2      ,        ,            ,     ,       ,         ,        ,       oo
Till the yel|low-haired | young Eu|lalie | became | my smi|ling bride. |

Once you have determined the meter of each line, dividing the feet equally and marking all pauses, you have finished scanning your non-blank poem.  Some non-blank poems are included below for you to practice.

Appendix:  Free verse and prose poems

These don't need to be scanned.

They can be recognized by their metric irregularity.

Free verse abandons the idea of temporal structure; each line is a single idea, not a set of time-units.

Prose poetry abandons the idea of narrative structure; each paragraph is an illustrated image or concept, not a narrative action.


Scanning practice:  Blank verse

Here are some speeches for you to scan.  Don't look at how I scanned them until you've finished your own scan.  My scans are not an answer key.  If my scan happens to be different from yours, you can compare the two and figure out why.  If your metric scan is accurate, then compare the meaning of your scan to the meaning of mine, and you'll be able to decide which, to you, is more meaningful.  The goal is for you to confidently scan a poem, with metrical accuracy, following your own interpretation.

From Pericles:

Peace, peace, and give experience tongue.
They do abuse the king that flatter him:
For flattery is the bellows blows up sin;
The thing which is flatter'd, but a spark,
To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing;
Whereas reproof, obedient and in order,
Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err.
When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace,
He flatters you, makes war upon your life.
Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please;
I cannot be much lower than my knees.

Here's my scan.

  __      __           ,         ,   2     ,
Peace, | peace, | and give | exper|ience tongue.
      ,      ,          ,           ,       ,
They do | abuse | the king | that fla|tter him:
      ,    2   ,        ,         ,         ,
For flat|tery is | the bel|lows blows | up sin;
      ,       ,          ,           ,        ,   .
The thing | which is | flattered, | but a | spark,
     ,            ,            ,            ,        ,    2->
To which | that blast | gives heat | and stron|ger glowing;
     ,         ,       ,   3  3     ,    ,
Whereas | reproof, | obe|dient and in | order,
       ,           ,         ,           ,         ,
Fits kings, | as they | are men, | for they | may err.
       ,        ,            ,          ,        ,
When Sign|ior Sooth | here does | proclaim | a peace,
     ,        ,            ,       ,          ,
He flat|ters you, | makes war | upon | your life.
   ,     ,                 ,           ,          ,
Prince, par/don me, | or strike | me, if | you please;
   ,       ,         ,       ,         ,
I can|not be | much low|er than | my knees.

From Henry VI part 3:

Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,
And we are graced with wreaths of victory.
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed:
I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen
Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

And my scan.

      ,         ,         ,         ,         ,
Thus far | our for|tune keeps | an up|ward course,
     ,         ,              ,          ,     ,
And we | are graced | with wreaths | of vic|tory.
     ,         ,                 ,      ,       ,
But in | the midst | of this / bright-shin|ing day,
   ,        ,          ,           ,     2     ,
I spy | a black, | suspi|cious, threat|ening cloud,
       ,        ,        ,          ,    2   ,
That will | encoun|ter with | our glor|ious sun,
 ,           ,         ,        ,        ,
Ere he | attain | his ease|ful wes|tern bed:
    ,          ,             ,        ,          ,
I mean, | my lords, | those pow|ers that | the queen
        ,         ,   2    ,         ,          ,
Hath raised | in Gal|lia have | arrived | our coast
 ,            ,            ,        ,           ,
And, as | we hear, | march on | to fight | with us.

From Coriolanus.  The final line has only three feet; its other two feet are shared with the next character's line.

Because that now it lies you on to speak
To the people; not by your own instruction,
Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you,
But with such words that are but rooted in
Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables
Of no allowance to your bosom's truth.
Now, this no more dishonours you at all
Than to take in a town with gentle words,
Which else would put you to your fortune and
The hazard of much blood.
I would dissemble with my nature where
My fortunes and my friends at stake required
I should do so in honour: I am in this,
Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;
And you will rather show our general louts
How you can frown then spend a fawn upon 'em,
For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard
Of what that want might ruin.

And my scan:

    ,           ,         ,         ,        ,
Because | that now | it lies | you on | to speak
  2     ,       o    ,             ,         ,     2->
To the pe|ople;   | not by | your own | instruc|tion,
     ,        ,                ,    ,        ,
Nor by | the mat|ter which / your heart | prompts you,
      ,           ,           ,          ,      ,
But with | such words | that are | but root|ed in
        ,         ,          ,              ,     ,
Your tongue, | though but | bastards | and syl|lables
    ,      ,        ,         ,         ,
Of no | allow|ance to | your bos|om's truth.
       ,        ,         ,        ,        ,
Now, this | no more | dishon|ours you | at all
            ,   ,       ,          ,        ,
Than to / take in | a town | with gen|tle words,
        ,           ,         ,         ,        ,
Which else | would put | you to | your for|tune and
     ,       ,    __      __     oo
The haz|ard of | much | blood. |
    ,         ,        ,        ,        ,
I would | dissem|ble with | my na|ture where
    ,         ,          ,           ,          ,
My for|tunes and | my friends | at stake | required
     ,         ,       ,      2   ,        ,
I should | do so | in hon|our: I am | in this,
       ,           ,            ,     3  3     ,       o
Your wife, | your son, | these sen|ators, the nob|les;
     ,          ,        ,          ,   2    ,
And you | will ra|ther show | our gen|eral louts
 ,     2        ,            ,         ,      ,
How you can | frown then | spend a | fawn up|on them,
 ,           ,     2    ,           ,           ,      2->
For the | inher|itance of | their loves | and safe|guard
     ,           ,           ,
Of what | that want | might ru|in.

This next is from The Comedy of Errors.  In British pronunciation, the word controversy is pronounced with the long and short syllables reversed-- that is, controversy instead of controversy.

'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck
Which he forswore most monstrously to have.
Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him.
Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble;
And, not without some scandal to yourself,
With circumstance and oaths so to deny
This chain which now you wear so openly:
Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You have done wrong to this my honest friend,
Who, but for staying on our controversy,
Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day:
This chain you had of me; can you deny it?

And my scan.  My scan reflects the American pronunciation of controversy.

  2    ,          ,           ,        ,          ,
It is so; | and that | self chain | about | his neck
       ,         ,          ,         ,        ,
Which he | forswore | most mon|strously | to have.
      ,            ,        ,           ,         ,
Good sir, | draw near | to me, | I'll speak | to him.
     ,       ,     ,        ,        ,
Signior | Anti|pholus, | I won|der much
      ,           ,        ,          ,           ,    ->
That you | would put | me to | this shame | and trou|ble;
 ,        2     ,           ,       ,        ,
And, | not without | some scan|dal to | yourself,
      ,       ,            ,         ,      ,
With cir|cumstance | and oaths | so to | deny
       ,            ,          ,       ,    ,
This chain | which now | you wear | so o|penly:
    ,          ,             ,          ,     ,
Beside | the charge, | the shame, | impris|onment,
     ,            ,          ,        ,         ,
You have | done wrong | to this | my hon|est friend,
 ,              ,        ,        ,       ,   2->
Who, but | for stay|ing on | our con|trover|sy,
     ,         ,         ,        ,       ,
Had hois|ted sail | and put | to sea | today:
       ,          ,        ,     ,     2    ,
This chain | you had | of me; | can you de|ny it?

From King Lear:

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall-- I will do such things--
What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep
No, I'll not weep:
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!

And my scan.  I borrowed a long syllable from one line to the previous one.  Imagine the howling rage on the extra-long syllables!

     ,         ,           ,         ,         ,
You see | me here, | you gods, | a poor | old man,
     ,          ,        ,       ,             ,
As full | of grief | as age; | wretched | in both!
    ,       ,           ,            ,           ,
If it | be you | that stir | these daught|ers' hearts
     ,           ,         ,        ,         ,
Against | their fa|ther, fool | me not | so much
     ,         ,        ,       2      ,      ,   2->
To bear | it tame|ly; touch | me with no|ble an|ger,
     ,         ,         ,        ,    2
And let | not wom|en's weap|ons, wa|ter-drops,
<- ,          ,        ,    .    ,           ,   2     ,
 Stain | my man's | cheeks!   | No, you | unna|tural hags,
    ,           ,        ,      ,        ,
I will | have such | reven|ges on | you both,
      ,          ,             ,         ,          ,
That all | the world | shall-- I | will do | such things--
    2      ,      ,            ,           ,           ,
What they are, | yet I | know not: | but they | shall be
     ,        ,         ,            ,            ,
The ter|rors of | the earth. | You think | I'll weep
__     __    __     __     oo
No, | I'll | not | weep: |
   ,            ,          ,        ,           ,
I have | full cause | of weep|ing; but | this heart
        ,        ,       ,        ,         ,
Shall break | into | a hun|dred thou|sand flaws,
    ,           ,         ,         ,       ,
Or ere | I'll weep. | O fool, | I shall go mad!

Here is a verse spoken by Iago in the first scene of Othello.  The first line is not shared with the previous character's verse.  It took me nearly two hours to complete the scan of this monologue.

O, sir, content you;
I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd:
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them and when they have lined their coats
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;
And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

And my scan.  For the first line, I borrowed "I" from the second line as a short syllable.  Depending on your dialect, homage can be pronounced correctly with the long syllable either first or last. I prefer a long age (rhymes with lodge) to a long hom (rhymes with bomb).

_     _          ,     _     o
O, | sir, | content | you; |
<-   ,        ,         ,         ,      ,
I | follow | him to | serve my | turn u|pon him:
    ,       ,        ,         ,         ,     2->
We can|not all | be mas|ters, nor | all mas|ters
    ,         ,     ,        o      2       ,
Cannot | be tru|ly fol|lowed.  | You shall mark
 ,  2     ,               ,    ,          ,
Many a | dute|ous and / knee crooking | knave,
<-       ,         2     ,       ,         ,     ->
That, | doting | on his own | obse|quious bon|dage,
  ,        2      ,            ,         ,         ,
Wears | out his time, | much like | his mas|ter's ass,
       ,           ,     ,        3    3      ,          ,
For nought | but pro|vender, | and when he's old, | cashiered:
  ,             ,         ,       ,              ,
Whip me | such hon|est knaves. | Others | there are
 ,                  ,          ,     ,       ,  ->
Who, trimmed | in forms | and vis|ages | of du|ty,
  ,       2        ,          ,       ,          ,
Keep | yet their hearts | atten|ding on | themselves,
 ,     ,               ,         ,          2        ,
And, throw/ing but | shows of | service | on their lords,
  2        ,          ,          ,        2       ,             ,
Do well thrive | by them | and when | they have lined | their coats
  2      ,          ,       ,             ,            ,
Do themselves | homage: | these fel|lows have | some soul;
   3    3   ,       ,       ,         ,          ,
And such a one | do I | profess | myself. | For sir,
    ,        ,        ,         ,    ,   2->
It is | as sure | as you | are Ro|deri|go,
     ,         ,         ,          ,    ,   2->
Were I | the Moor, | I would | not be | Ia|go:
    ,     2    ,        ,       ,        ,
In fol|lowing him, | I fol|low but | myself;
 ,    2          ,          ,         ,         ,   2->
Heaven is | my judge, | not I | for love | and du|ty,
      ,       ,         ,      ,   2   ,
But seem|ing so, | for my | pecu|liar end:
      ,        ,        ,     2      ,       ,
For when | my out|ward ac|tion doth de|monstrate
     ,       ,         ,       ,        ,
The na|tive act | and fig|ure of | my heart
     ,     ,         ,       2    ,          ,   2->
In com|pliment | extern, | it is not | long af|ter
    ,          ,         ,       ,         ,
But I | will wear | my heart | upon | my sleeve
      ,         ,        o    2    ,        2   ,
For daws | to peck | at:   | I am not | what I am.

The famous monologue from Hamlet.  The final line is shared with Ophelia; her first words have been included here in brackets.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.  [Good my lord,]

And my scan.

    ,        ,        ,      ,    2        ,
To be, | or not | to be: | that is the | question:
  ,             ,       ,        ,        ,     2->
Whether | 'tis no|bler in | the mind |to suf|fer
       ,          ,     3  3    ,        ,        o
The slings | and ar|rows of outra|geous for|tune,
          ,    ,       3   3   ,         ,      ->
Or to / take arms | against a sea | of troub|les,
 ,    2   ,       ,          o       ,         ,
And by oppo|sing end | them?   | To die: |to sleep;
     ,          ,       ,         ,        ,
No more; | and by | a sleep | to say | we end
      ,         ,          ,        ,   2      ,
The heart|ache and | the thou|sand nat|ural shocks
       ,          ,        o     3  3    ,     ,     2->
That flesh | is heir | to,   | it is a con|summa|tion
    ,      ,        ,           ,          ,
Devout|ly to | be wished. | To die, | to sleep;
      ,           ,          ,            ,            ,
To sleep: | perchance | to dream: | ay, there's | the rub;
     ,           ,         ,             ,           ,
For in | that sleep | of death | what dreams | may come
      ,          ,        ,          ,        ,
When we | have shuf|fled off | this mor|tal coil,
      ,          ,      oo     ,               ,
Must give | us pause: |    | there's the | respect
       ,        ,  3  3    ,     ,    ,     o
That makes | cala|mity of so | long life; /
     ,            ,          ,            ,         ,
For who | would bear | the whips | and scorns | of time,
   2    ,          ,            ,      ,         ,
The oppres|sor's wrong, | the proud | man's con|tumely,
      ,       2    ,       ,           ,        ,
The pangs | of despis|ed love, | the law's | delay,
     ,     ,         ,       ,           ,
The in|solence | of of|fice and | the spurns
      ,        ,    3  3    ,   ,         ,   o
That pa|tient me|rit of the un|worthy | takes,
      ,        ,      ,          ,        ,
When he | himself | might his | quiet|us make
           ,   ,        ,           ,         ,
With a / bare bod|kin? who | would far|dels bear,
     ,           ,      ,          ,      ,
To grunt | and sweat | under | a wear|y life,
 ,               ,          ,         ,       ,
But that | the dread | of some|thing af|ter death,
     ,     ,         ,        ,            ,
The un|discov|ered coun|try from | whose bourn
 ,   ,               ,      ,              ,
No tra/veller | returns, | puzzles | the will
      ,         ,        ,            ,         ,
And makes | us ra|ther bear | those ills | we have
      ,        ,        ,         ,         ,
Than fly | to ot|hers that | we know | not of?
      ,            ,          ,        ,       ,
Thus con|science does | make cow|ards of | us all;
      ,         ,       ,        ,    ,     2->
And thus | the na|tive hue | of re|solu|tion
     ,       ,    3    3     ,       ,          ,     .
Is sick|lied o|ver with the pale | cast of | thought,
     ,      ,            ,    ,          ,     2->
And en|terpri|ses of / great pith | and mo|ment
       ,        ,           ,          ,       ,
With this | regard | their cur|rents turn | awry,
      ,         ,         ,          ,         ,
And lose | the name | of ac|tion.  Soft | you now!
      ,       ,  2     ,        2     ,    ,
The fair | Ophe|lia! Nymph, | in thy or|isons
     ,        ,       ,             ,         ,
Be all | my sins | remem|bered.  [Good | my lord,]

Scanning practice:  Non-blank verse

Here are some poems for you to scan.  Again, don't look at how I scanned them until you've finished your own scan.  My scans are not an answer key.  If my scan happens to be different from yours, you can compare the two and figure out why.

 


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