Sonnet 26

THough duskie wits doe scorne Astrologie,
And fooles can thinke those lampes of purest light.
Whose number waies greatnes eternitie.
Promising wondrous wonders to inuite,
To haue for no cause birth-right in the skyes.
But for to spangle the blacke weedes of Night,
Or for some braue within that Chamber hie,
They shold still daunce to please a gazers sight.
For me I nature euery deale doe know,
And know great causes, great effects procure,
And know those bodies high, raigne on the low.
And if these rules did fall, proofe makes me sure,
Who oft bewraies my after following case,
By onely those two starres in Stellas face.