The paynefull smith with force of fervent heat The hardest yron soone doth mollify; That with his heavy sledge he can it beat, And fashion to what he it list apply. Yet cannot all these flames in which I fry Her hart, more harde then yron, soft a whit Ne all the playnts and prayers with which Doe beat on th' andvyle of her stubberne wit: But still, the more she fervent sees my fit, The more she frieseth in her wilfull pryde; And harder growes, the harder she is smit, With all the playnts which to her be applyde. What then remaines but I to ashes burne, And she to stones at length all frosen turne? |