Tell me, what needs those rich deceits, These golden toils, and trammel nets, To take thine hairs when they are known Already tame, and all thine own? ’Tis I am wild, and more than hairs Deserve these meshes and those snares. Set free thy tresses, let them flow As airs do breathe or winds do blow: And let such curious net-works be Less set for them than spread for me.