Book V, 230

Doris pulled one thread from her golden hair and bound my hands with it, as if I were her prisoner. Rees At first I laughed, thinking it easy to shake off charming Doris’ fetters. But finding I had not strength to break them, I presently began to moan, as one held tight by galling irons. And now most ill-fated of men, I am hung on a hair and must ever follow where my mistress chooses to drag me.