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.<br /><br />Edmund Spenser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-94/
