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(william shakespeare)

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy;
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, or dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
Or say with princess if it whall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert:
Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
They and is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
(william shakespeare)      Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,   And yet methinks I have astronomy;   But not to tell of good or evil luck,   Of plagues, or dearths, or seasons' quality;   Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,   Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,   Or say with princess if it whall go well   By oft predict that I in heaven find.   But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,   And, constant stars, in them I read such art   As truth and beauty shall together thrive   If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert:   Or else of thee this I prognosticate,   They and is truth's and beauty's doom and date.