Or euer ioy expresse what perfect ioy hath taught,
Then wonder, tongue, then ioy, might wel report a wonder.
Could all conceite conclude, which past conceit admireth,
Or could mine eye but ayme her obiects past perfection,
My words might imitate my deerest thoughts direction,
And my soule then obtaine which so my soule desireth.
Were not Inuention stauld, treading Inuentions maze,
Or my swift-winged Muse tyred by too hie flying;
Did not perfection still on her perfection gaze,
Whilst Loue (my Phoenix bird) in her owne flame is dying,
Inuention and my Muse, perfection and her loue,
Should teach the world to know the wonder that I proue.


Amour 18

Some, when in ryme they of their Loues doe tell,
With flames and lightning their exordiums paynt:
Some inuocate the Gods, some spirits of Hell,
And heauen, and earth doe with their woes acquaint.
_Elizia_ is too hie a seate for mee:
I wyll not come in _Stixe_ or _Phlegiton_;
The Muses nice, the Furies cruell be,
I lyke not _Limbo_, nor blacke _Acheron_,
Spightful _Erinnis_ frights mee with her lookes,
My manhood dares not with foule _Ate_ mell:
I quake to looke on _Hecats_ charming bookes,
I styll feare bugbeares in _Apollos_ cell.
I passe not for _Minerua_ nor _Astræa_.
But euer call vpon diuine _Idea_.