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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374398" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poem 94</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374398" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">NAthlesse the cruell boy not so content,<br>would needs the fly pursue:<br>And in his hand with heedlesse hardiment,<br>him caught for to subdue.<br>But when on it he hasty hand did lay,<br>the Bee him stung therefore:<br>Now out alasse (he cryde) and welaway,<br>I wounded am full sore:<br>The fly that I so much did scorne,<br>hath hurt me with his little horne.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edmund+Spenser">Edmund Spenser</a></strong></div>

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