Though duskie wits dare scorne Astrologie,
And fooles can thinke those lampes of purest light,
Whose number, waies, greatnes, eternitie,
Promising wondrous wonders to invite,
To have for no cause birth-right in the skyes.
But for to spangle the blacke weedes of Night,
Or for some Braule which in that Chamber hie,
They should still daunce to please a gazers sight.
For mee I doe Nature unydle know,
And know great causes, great effects procure,
And know those bodies high, raigne on the low.
And if these rules did fayle, proofe makes me sure,
Who oft foresee my after following case,
By onely those two starres in Stella’s face.