Sonnet 23

PENELOPE, for her Ulisses sake,

Deuized a web her wooers to deceaue:

In which the worke that she all day did make

The same at night she did againe unreaue.

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 undonne.

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.