XV. A gentle tame deer am I, called a Hart

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

A GENTLE tame deer am I, called a Hart:

The cruel huntress fierce my Mistress is.

With crossbow bent, she comes to me in Park;

Paled in with pleasant thoughts of wanton wish.

She shoots, and hits me; takes me for her prey:

And (having shot, hit, taken) flies her way.

Back she retires from me, with pleasant smile;

Unloosing me, and heals my wound and pain:

When, as afresh incensed (alack the while!)

’Gainst me, desirous me to plague again,

She turns towards me, o’ertakes me, strikes me sore:

And, binding up my wounds, makes deadly more.