SONNET. XXIII. Penelope for her Vlisses sake, Deuiz'd a Web her wooers to deceaue: in which the worke that she all day did make the same at night she did againe vnreaue: Such subtile craft my Damzell doth conceaue, th'importune suit of my desire to shonne: for all that I in many dayes doo weaue, in one short houre I find by her vndonne. So when I thinke to end that I begonne, I must begin and neuer bring to end: for with one looke she spils that long I sponne, and with one word my whole years work doth rend. Such labour like the Spyders web I fynd, whose fruitlesse worke is broken with least wynd.