Sonnet 14

1 Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck,
2 And yet methinks I have astronomy,
3 But not to tell of good, or evil luck,
4 Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality,
5 Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell;
6 Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
7 Or say with princes if it shall go well
8 By oft predict that I in heaven find.
9 But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
10 And constant stars in them I read such art
11 As truth and beauty shall together thrive
12 If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert:
13 Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
14 Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.