Like as a huntsman after weary chase,
    Seeing the game from him escap'd away,
    Sits down to rest him in some shady place,
    With panting hounds beguiled of their prey:
    So after long pursuit and vain assay,
    When I all weary had the chase forsook,
    The gentle deer return'd the self-same way,
    Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brook.
    There she beholding me with milder look,
  Sought not to fly, but fearless still did bide:
  Till I in hand her yet half trembling took,
  And with her own goodwill her firmly tied.
  Strange thing, me seem'd, to see a beast so wild,
  So goodly won, with her own will beguil'd.
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