Imatges de pàgina
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So when my Chloe I purfue,
No heaven befides I have in view.

Thus, on comparison, you fee,
In ev'ry instance they agree,
So like, fo very much the fame,
That one may go by t'other's name.
Let me proclaim it then aloud,
That ev'ry woman is a cloud.

THE

ANSWER.

PRefumptuous bard! how could you

dare

A woman with a cloud compare?
Strange pride and infolence you show,
Inferior mortals there below.

And is our thunder in your ears
So frequent or fo loud as theirs?
Alas! our thunder foon goes out;
And only makes you more devout.
Then is not female clatter worse,
That drives you not to pray, but curfe?

We hardly thunder thrice a year; The bolt discharg'd, the sky grows clear:

But

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But ev'ry fublunary dowdy,
The more she scolds, the more she's cloudy.

Some critick may object, perhaps,
That clouds are blam'd for giving claps;
But what, alas! are claps æthereal,
Compar'd for mischief to venereal?
Can clouds give bubo's, ulcers, blotches,
Or from your nofes dig out notches?
We leave the body sweet and found;
We kill, 'tis true, but never wound.

You know a cloudy sky befpeaks Fair weather when the morning breaks; But women in a cloudy plight Foretell a ftorm to laft till night.

A cloud in proper seasons

pours His bleffings down in fruitful fhow'rs; But woman was by fate defign'd pour down curfes on mankind.

Το

*

When Sirius o'er the welkin rages, Our kindly help his fire affwages; But woman is a curft inflamer,

No parish ducking-ftool can tame her:

The dog-ftar.

To

To kindle ftrife dame nature taught her; Like fire-works fhe can burn in water.

For fickleness how durft you blame us, Who for our conftancy are famous ? You'll fee a cloud in gentle weather Keep the fame face an hour together; While women, if it could be reckon'd, Change ev'ry feature ev'ry second.

Obferve our figure in a morning, Of foul or fair we give you warning; But can you guess from woman's air One minute, whether foul or fair?

Go read in ancient books enroll'd What honours we poffefs'd of old.

To disappoint Ixion's rape

JOVE dreft a cloud in Juno's fhape; Which when he had enjoy'd, he fwore, No goddess could have pleas'd him more; No diff'rence could he find between

His cloud and Jove's imperial queen: His cloud produc'd a race of centaurs Fam'd for a thousand bold adventures; From us defcended ab origine,

By learned authors call'd nubigene,

But

But fay, what earthly nymph do you know, So beautiful to pafs for Juno?

Before Æneas durst aspire To court her majesty of Tyre, His mother beg'd of us to dress him, That Dido might the more carefs him: A coat we gave him, dy'd in grain, A flaxen wig and clouded cane

(The wig was powder'd round with fleet, Which fell in clouds beneath his feet), With which he made a tearing show; And Dido quickly Smoak'd the beau.

Among your females make enquiries,
What nymph on earth so fair as Īris?
With heav'nly beauty so endow'd?
And yet her father is a cloud.
We drefs'd her in a gold brocade,
Befitting Juno's favʼrite maid.

"Tis known, that Socrates the wife
Ador'd us clouds as deities;
To us he made his daily prayers,
As Ariftophanes declares;
From Jupiter took all dominion,
And dy'd defending his opinion.

By

By his authority 'tis plain
You worship other gods in vain,
And from your own experience know
We govern all things there below.
You follow where we please to guide,
O'er all your paffions we prefide,
Can raise them up, or fink them down,
As we think fit to fmile or frown:
And, juft as we dispose your brain,
Are witty, dull, rejoice, complain.

Compare us then to female race!
We, to whom all the gods give place:
Who better challenge your allegiance,
Because we dwell in higher regions :
You find the gods in Homer dwell
In feas and ftreams or low as hell:
Ev'n Jove, and Mercury his pimp,
No higher climb than mount Olymp
(Who makes you think the clouds he
pierces ?

He pierce the clouds! he kiss their a—es). While we, o'er Teneriffa plac'd,

Are loftier by a mile at least:

And when Apollo ftruts on Pindus,

We see him from our kitchen windows;

Or

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