To my Muse

LXV.
 — TO MY MUSE.

 Away, and leave me, thou thing most abhorr'd
 That hast betray'd me to a worthless lord ;
 Made me commit most fierce idolatry
 To a great image through thy luxury :
 Be thy next master's more unlucky muse,
 And, as thou'st mine, his hours and youth abuse,
 Get him the time's long grudge, the court's ill will ;
 And reconcil'd, keep him suspected still.
 Make him lose all his friends ; and, which is worse,
 Almost all ways to any better course.
 With me thou leav'st an happier muse than thee,
 And which thou brought'st me, welcome poverty :
 She shall instruct my after-thoughts to write
 Things manly, and not smelling parasite.
 But I repent me : stay — Whoe'er is raised,
 For worth he has not, he is tax'd not praised.

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