The burning glsse, that most doth gather fire

THE burning glsse, that most doth gather fire,
While Sirian Dog doth parch the meddowes greene,
Doth never burne (a thing we much admire)
The cloth, or stuffe, that perfect white is seene:
But soone enflames, all cullors else beside,
The black, the blew, the red, and motley pide.

To this same glasse, I slaunder still compare,
That by degrees, doth subtilly gather heate,
And doth not with malicious envie spare,
The good, the bad, the little or the greate,
Who though she hath, o're other vertues power,
The conscience cleere, she never shall devoure.