Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, 
But as for me, helas! I may no more. 
The vain travail hath worried me so sore, 
I am of them that furthest come behind. 
Yet may I by no means, my worried mind 
Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore 
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore, 
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind. 
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt, 
As well as I, may spend his time in vain; 
And graven in diamonds in letters plain 
There is written, her fair neck round about, 
"Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,
And wild to hold, though I seem tame."