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 Sir P[HILIP] S[IDNEY]

HIS

ASTROPHEL AND STELLA.

I.

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That She, dear She! might take some pleasure of my pain; Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain:

I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain; Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburnt brain: But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay. Invention Nature's child, fled step-dame's Study's blows; And others' feet still seemed but strangers' in my way. Thus great with child to speak,and helpless in my throes; Biting my trewand pen, beating myself for spite: "Fool!" said my Muse, "look in thy heart, and write!"