What poor astronomers are they

What poor astronomers are they
Take women's eyes for stars
And set their thoughts in battle 'ray
To fight such idle wars
When in the end they shall approve
'tis but a jest drawn out of love

And love itself is but a jest
Devis'd by idle heads
To catch young fancies in the nest
And lay it in fools' beds;
That, being hatch'd in Beauty's eyes
They may be fledg'd ere they be wise

But yet it is a sport to see
How wit will run on wheels
While will cannot persuaded be
With that which reason feels;
That women's eyes and stars are odd
And Love is but a feigned god

But such as will run mad with will
I cannot clear their sight
But leave them to their study still
To look where is no light
'Till them too late we make them try
They study false astronomy!