I Joy to see how in your drawen work,
    Your selfe unto the Bee ye doe compare;
    and me unto the Spyder that doth lurke
    in close awayt to catch her unaware.
Right so your selfe were caught in cunning snare
    of a deare foe, and thralled to his love:
    in whose streight bands ye now captived are
    so firmely, that ye never may remove.
But as your worke is woven all about,
    with woodbynd flowers and fragrant Eglantine:
    so sweet your prison you in time shall prove,
    with many deare delights bedecked fyne.
And all thensforth eternall peace shall see
    betweene the Spyder and the gentle Bee.