So doth the fire the drossy gold refine.
Neither Minerva, nor the learned Muse,
Nor Rules of Art, nor Precepts of the Wise,
Could in my brain, those beams of skill infuse,
As but the glance of this Dame's angry eyes.
She, within lists, my ranging mind hath brought,
That now beyond myself I list not go;
Myself am Centre of my circling thought,
Only Myself, I study, learn, and know.
I know my Body's of so frail a kind,