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.