Sonnet 67

Sonnet LXVII

Like as a huntsman after weary chase, Seeing the game from him escaped 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 returned the self-same way, thinking to quench her thirst at the next brooke. 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 good will her firmly tied. Strange thing, me seemed, to see a beast so wild, so goodly won, with her own will beguiled.