Sonnet 18
THE rolling wheele, that runneth often round,
The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare:
And drizling drops, that often doe redound[1],
The firmest flint doth in continuance weare[2].
Yet cannot I, with many a dropping teare,
And long intreaty, soften her hard hart:
That she will once vouchsafe my plaint to heare,
Or looke with pitty on my payneful smart.
But when I pleade, she bids me play my part,
And when I weep, she sayes teares are but water:
And when I sigh, she sayes I know the art[3],
And when I waile, she turnes hir selfe to laughter.
So doe I weepe, and wayle, and pleade in vaine,
Whiles she as steele and flint doth still remayne.
[1] redound:使溢出，使泛滥，使涨满
[2] weare:滴水穿石。
[3] the art:情场老手。
