Amoretti XXIII: Penelope for her Ulisses sake

Penelope for her Ulisses sake, Deviz’d a Web her wooers to deceave: In which the worke that she all day did make The same at night she did again unreave: Such subtile craft my Damzell doth conceave, Th’ importune suit of my desire to shnone: For all that I in many dayes doo weave, In one short houre I find by her undonne. So when I thinke to end that I begonne, I must begin and never 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 fruitless worke is broken with least wynd.