The Simile | ||
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THE SIMILE:
OR, WOMAN a CLOUD.
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In vain I oft have try'd to find
A Simile for Womankind;
A Simile (I mean) to fit them,
In ev'ry Circumstance to hit them:
Thro' ev'ry Bird and Beast I went,
And ransack'd ev'ry Element,
And, after peeping thro' all Nature,
To find so whimsical a Creature,
A Cloud presented to my View,
And strait this Parallel I drew:
A Simile for Womankind;
A Simile (I mean) to fit them,
In ev'ry Circumstance to hit them:
Thro' ev'ry Bird and Beast I went,
And ransack'd ev'ry Element,
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To find so whimsical a Creature,
A Cloud presented to my View,
And strait this Parallel I drew:
Clouds turn with ev'ry Wind about,
And keep us in Suspence and Doubt;
Yet oft perverse, like Womankind,
Are seen to scud against the Wind:
And are not Women just the same?
For who can tell at what they aim?
And keep us in Suspence and Doubt;
Yet oft perverse, like Womankind,
Are seen to scud against the Wind:
And are not Women just the same?
For who can tell at what they aim?
Clouds keep the stoutest Mortals under,
When, bellowing, they discharge their Thunder;
So when the alarm Bell is rung,
Of Xanty's everlasting Tongue,
The Husband dreads its Loudness more
Than Lightning's Flash, or Thunder's Roar.
When, bellowing, they discharge their Thunder;
So when the alarm Bell is rung,
Of Xanty's everlasting Tongue,
The Husband dreads its Loudness more
Than Lightning's Flash, or Thunder's Roar.
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Clouds weep, as they do, without Pain;
For what are Tears but Woman's Rain?
The Clouds about the Welkin roam,
And Ladies seldom stay at Home.
The Clouds build Castles in the Air,
A Thing peculiar to the Fair:
For all the Schemes, of their forecasting,
Are not more solid, or more lasting.
For what are Tears but Woman's Rain?
The Clouds about the Welkin roam,
And Ladies seldom stay at Home.
The Clouds build Castles in the Air,
A Thing peculiar to the Fair:
For all the Schemes, of their forecasting,
Are not more solid, or more lasting.
A Cloud is light by Turns, and dark,
Such is a Lady with her Spark:
Now in a sullen, pouting Gloom,
She seems to darken all the Room;
Again she's pleas'd, his Fears beguil'd,
And all is clear'd, when she has smil'd:
In this they're wondrously alike,
(I hope the Simile will strike)
Tho' in the darkest Dumps you view 'em,
Stay but a Moment, you'll see thro' 'em,
Such is a Lady with her Spark:
Now in a sullen, pouting Gloom,
She seems to darken all the Room;
Again she's pleas'd, his Fears beguil'd,
And all is clear'd, when she has smil'd:
In this they're wondrously alike,
(I hope the Simile will strike)
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Stay but a Moment, you'll see thro' 'em,
A Cloud is apt to make Reflection,
And frequently produce Infection;
Thus Chloe, with small Provocation,
Blasts ev'ry Neighbour's Reputation.
And frequently produce Infection;
Thus Chloe, with small Provocation,
Blasts ev'ry Neighbour's Reputation.
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Clouds delight in gaudy Show,
For they, like Ladies, have their Beau;
The gravest Matron must confess,
That she herself is fond of Dress:
Observe the Clouds in Pomp array'd,
With various Colours are display'd;
The Pink, the Rose, the Violet Dye,
In that great Drawing-room the Sky;
How do these differ from our Graces,
In Garden Silks, Brocades, and Laces?
Are they not such another Sight,
When met upon a Birth-day Night?
For they, like Ladies, have their Beau;
The gravest Matron must confess,
That she herself is fond of Dress:
Observe the Clouds in Pomp array'd,
With various Colours are display'd;
The Pink, the Rose, the Violet Dye,
In that great Drawing-room the Sky;
How do these differ from our Graces,
In Garden Silks, Brocades, and Laces?
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When met upon a Birth-day Night?
The
Clouds delight to change their Fashion,
(Dear Ladies be not in a Passion,
Nor let this Whim to you seem strange,
Who ev'ry Hour delight to change,)
In them and you alike are seen
The sullen Symptoms of the Spleen;
The Moment that your Vapours rise,
We see them dropping from your Eyes.
(Dear Ladies be not in a Passion,
Nor let this Whim to you seem strange,
Who ev'ry Hour delight to change,)
In them and you alike are seen
The sullen Symptoms of the Spleen;
The Moment that your Vapours rise,
We see them dropping from your Eyes.
In Ev'ning fair you may behold
The Clouds all fring'd with borrow'd Gold;
And this is many a Lady's Case,
Who flaunts about in borrow'd Lace:
Grave Matrons are like Clouds of Snow,
Their Words fall thick, and soft, and slow;
While brisk Coquets, like rattling Hail,
Our Ears on ev'ry Side assail.
The Clouds all fring'd with borrow'd Gold;
And this is many a Lady's Case,
Who flaunts about in borrow'd Lace:
Grave Matrons are like Clouds of Snow,
Their Words fall thick, and soft, and slow;
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Our Ears on ev'ry Side assail.
Clouds, when they interrupt our Sight,
Deprive us of celestial Light;
So when my Celia I pursue,
No Heav'n besides I have in View.
Deprive us of celestial Light;
So when my Celia I pursue,
No Heav'n besides I have in View.
Thus, on Comparison, you see,
In ev'ry Instance they agree;
So like, so very much the same,
The one may go by t'others Name.
Let me proclaim it, then, aloud,
That ev'ry Woman is a Cloud.
In ev'ry Instance they agree;
So like, so very much the same,
The one may go by t'others Name.
Let me proclaim it, then, aloud,
That ev'ry Woman is a Cloud.
FINIS.
The Simile | ||