Sonnet, 4.

TEares, vowes and praiers gaines the hardest hearts,
Teares, vowes and praiers, haue I spent in vaine,
Teares cannot soften flint, nor vowes conuert,
Praiers preuaile not with a quaint disdaine.

I loose my teares, where I haue lost my loue,
I vowe my faith, where faith is not regarded,
I pray in vaine a merciles to moue,
So rare a faith ought better be rewarded.

Though frozen will may not be thawed with teares,
Though my soules Idol skorneth all my vowes,
Though all my praiers be made to deafned eares,
No fauour though, the cruel faire allowes,
Yet will I weepe, vowe, praie to cruel shee,
Flint, frost, disdaine, weares, melts and yeelds we see.