Few Love To Hear The Sins They

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine.

Like One Who Having Into Truth, By Telling Of It, Made Such A Sinner Of His Memory, To Credit His Own Lie.

If Thou Couldst, Doctor, Cast The Water Of My Land, Find Her Disease, And Purge It To A Sound And Pristine Health, I Would Applaud Thee To The Very Echo, That Should Applaud You Again.

That If You Be Honest And Fair, Your Honesty Should Admit No Discourse To Your Beauty.

My Meaning In Saying He Is A Good Man, Is To Have You Understand Me That He Is Sufficient.