Astrophil and Stella
Reason, in faith thou art well served, that still
Would'st brabbling be with sense and love in me.
I rather wished thee climb the muses' hill,
Or reach the fruit of nature's choicest tree,
Or seek heaven's course, or heaven's inside, to see.
Why should'st thou toil our thorny soil to till?
Leave sense, and those which sense's objects be:
Deal thou with powers of thoughts, leave love to will.
But thou would'st needs fight both with love and sense,
With sword of wit giving wounds of dispraise,
Till downright blows did foil thy cunning fence:
For soon as they strake thee with Stella's rays,
Reason, thou kneeled'st, and offered'st straight to prove
By reason good, good reason her to love.
Sir Philip Sidney
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