Their words fall thick, and soft, and slow;
While brisk coquettes,[18] like rattling hail,
Our ears on every side assail. 
  Clouds, when they intercept our sight,
Deprive us of celestial light: 
So when my Chloe I pursue,
No heaven besides I have in view. 
  Thus, on comparison,[19] you see,
In every instance they agree;
So like, so very much the same,
That one may go by t’other’s name. 
Let me proclaim[20] it then aloud,
That every woman is a cloud.

[Footnote 1:  The following foot-notes, which appear to be Dr. Sheridan’s, are replaced from the Irish edition:]

[Footnote 2:  Most ladies, in reading, call this word a smile; but they are to note, it consists of three syllables, si-mi-le.  In English, a likeness.]

[Footnote 3:  Not to hurt them.]

[Footnote 4:  Not like a gun or pistol.]

[Footnote 5:  This is not meant as to shooting, but resolving.]

[Footnote 6:  This word is not here to be understood of a bull, but a cloud, which makes a noise like a bull, when it thunders.]

[Footnote 7:  Xanti, a nick-name for Xantippe, that scold of glorious memory, who never let poor Socrates have one moment’s peace of mind; yet with unexampled patience, he bore her pestilential tongue.  I shall beg the ladies’ pardon if I insert a few passages concerning her; and at the same time I assure them, it is not to lessen those of the present age, who are possessed of the like laudable talents; for I will confess, that I know three in the city of Dublin, no way inferior to Xantippe, but that they have not as great men to work upon.

When a friend asked Socrates, how he could bear the scolding of his wife Xantippe? he retorted, and asked him, how he could bear the gaggling of his geese?  Ay, but my geese lay eggs for me, replied his friend; so doth my wife bear children, said Socrates.—­Diog.  Laert.

Being asked at another time, by a friend, how he could bear her tongue? he said, she was of this use to him, that she taught him to bear the impertinences of others with more ease when he went abroad.—­Plat.  De Capiend. ex host. utilit.

Socrates invited his friend Euthymedus to supper.  Xantippe, in great rage, went in to them, and overset the table.  Euthymedus, rising in a passion to go off, My dear friend, stay, said Socrates, did not a hen do the same thing at your house the other day, and did I show any resentment?—­Plat. de ira cohibenda.

I could give many more instances of her termagancy, and his philosophy, if such a proceeding might not look as if I were glad of an opportunity to expose the fair sex; but, to show that I have no such design, I declare solemnly, that I had much worse stories to tell of her behaviour to her husband, which I rather passed over, on account of the great esteem which I bear the ladies, especially those in the honourable station of matrimony.]