[105] Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend:
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire:
[110] Thy eye Jove’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
[112] Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong,
[113] That sings heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue.
Hol. You find not the apostrophas, and so miss the [115] accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden [117] cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous [119] flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: [120] so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you?