Make Then Your Forecasts, My Lords Astrologers, With Your Slavish Physicians, By Means Of Those Astrolabes With Which You Seek To Discern The Fantastic Nine Moving Spheres; In These You Finally Imprison Your Own Minds, So That You Appear To Me But As Parrots In A Cage, While I Watch You Dancing Up And Down, Turning And Hopping Within Those Circles.
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Make Then Your Forecasts, My Lords Astrologers,
Make Then Your Forecasts, My Lords Astrologers, With Your Slavish Physicians, By Means Of Those Astrolabes With Which You Seek To Discern The Fantastic Nine Moving Spheres; In These You Finally Imprison Your Own Minds, So That You Appear To Me But As Parrots In A Cage, While I Watch You Dancing Up And Down, Turning And Hopping Within Those Circles.
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