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when in rhyme they of their loves do tell,

With flames and lightnings their exordiums paint.

Some call on heaven, some invocate on hell,

And Fates and Furies, with their woes acquaint.

Elizium is too high a seat for me,

I will not come in Styx or Phlegethon,

The thrice-three Muses but too wanton be,

Like they that lust, I care not, I will none.

Spiteful Erinnys frights me with her looks,

My manhood dares not with foul Ate mell,

I quake to look on Hecate's charming books,

I still fear bugbears in Apollo's cell.

I pass not for Minerva, nor Astrea,

Only I call on my divine Idea!