Book III, 11: On the pouring out of our hearts

Tis easie to poure in: But few, I doubt,
Attaine that curious Art, of pouring out:
Some poure their hearts, like oyle, that there resides
An unctions substance still, about the sides:
Others, like Wine; which, though the substance passe,
Does leave a kinde of savour in the Glasse;
Some pour their hearts like Milk, whose hiew distaines
Though neither Substance, nor the sent remaines:
How shal we poure them, then; that smel, nor matter,
Nor colour stay? Poure out your hearts like water.