I am sieve-like, and can hold Nothing hot or nothing cold. Put in love, and put in too Jealousy, and both will through: Put in fear, and hope, and doubt; What comes in runs quickly out: Put in secrecies withal, Whate’er enters, out it shall: But if you can stop the sieve, For mine own part, I’d as lief Maids should say or virgins sing, Herrick keeps, as holds nothing.