For ’tis of force and not of a set will.
Ne dare my wary mind afford assent
To what is plac’d above all mortall skill.
But yet our various thoughts to represent
Each gentle wight will deem of good intent.
Wherefore with leave th’ infinitie I’ll sing
Of time, Of Space: or without leave; I’m brent
With eagre rage, my heart for joy doth spring,
And all my spirits move with pleasant trembeling.