Classic Poem

Of the Pure.

E PIG . 198.

H IMERA , that admir'd Sicillian floud
Deuided in two channells equally,
One being salte, the other fresh and good;
Is like the mouth that speakes pure openly,
And yet in corners filthy matches make:
God blesse the pure from such hipocrisie:
No doubt but they great heed thereof will take,
Sith of that sinne they know the ieopardy:
 Yet if their words be sweete and deedes be salt,
 Full well they know (God knowes) that is a fault.