Astrophil and Stella 3: Let dainty wits cry…

Let dainty wits cry on the sisters nine,

That, bravely mask'd, their fancies may be told;

Or, Pindar's apes, flaunt they in phrases fine,

Enam'ling with pied flowers their thoughts of gold.

Or else let them in statelier glory shine,

Ennobling newfound tropes with problems old;

Or with strange similes enrich each line,

Of herbs or beasts which Ind or Afric hold.

For me, in sooth, no Muse but one I know;

Phrases and problems from my reach do grow,

And strange things cost too dear for my poor sprites.

How then? even thus: in Stella's face I read

What love and beauty be; then all my deed

But copying is, what in her Nature writes.