Some, when in Ryme, they of their Loues doe tell,
With Flames and Lightnings their Exordiums paint,
Some call on Heauen, some inuocate on Hell,
And Fates and Furies, with their woes acquaint,
Elizium is too high a seate for Me,
I will not come in Stix or Phlegeton,
The thrice-three Muses but too wanton be,
Like they that Lust, I care not, I will none.
Spightfull Erinnis frights Me with her Lookes,
My man-hood dares not with foule Ate mell,
I quake to looke on Hecat’s charming Bookes,
I still feare Bug-beares in Apollo’s Cell.
I passe not for Minerva, nor Astrea,
Onely I call on my diuine Idea.