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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 3: Let Dainty Wits
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     Let dainty wits cry on the sisters nine,
    That, bravely mask`d, their fancies may be told;
    Or, Pindar`s apes, flaunt they in phrases fine,
    Enam`ling with pied flowers their thoughts of gold.
    Or else let them in statelier glory shine,
    Ennobling newfound tropes with problems old;
    Or with strange similes enrich each line,
    Of herbs or beasts which Ind or Afric hold.
    For me, in sooth, no Muse but one I know;
   Phrases and problems from my reach do grow,
   And strange things cost too dear for my poor sprites.
   How then? even thus: in Stella`s face I read
   What love and beauty be; then all my deed
   But copying is, what in her Nature writes.
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