Presum'd to solve the riddles of the sky;
120Impatient till I knew my doom,
Dejected till the good direction come,
I ripp'd up Fate's forbidden womb,
Nor would I stay till it brought forth
An easy and a natural birth,
But was solicitous to know
The yet misshapen embryo
(Preposterous crime!)
Without the formal midwif'ry of time: