Sir Edward Sherburne (1618–1702)

AND yet anew entangled, see

Him who escaped the snare so late!

A truce, no league, thou mad’st with me,

False love, which now is out of date:

Fool, to believe the fire quite out, alas,

Which only laid asleep in embers was.

The sickness not at first past cure,

By this relapse despiseth art.

Now, treacherous boy, thou hast me sure,

Playing the wanton with my heart,

As foolish children that a bird have got

Slacken the thread, but not untie the knot.