WHEN I tie about thy wrist,

Julia, this my silken twist,

For what other reason is’t

But to show thee how, in part,

Thou my pretty captive art?

—But thy bond-slave is my heart.

’Tis but silk that bindeth thee,

Snap the thread, and thou art free;

But ’tis otherwise with me:

I am bound, and fast bound, so

That from thee I cannot go:

If I could I would not so!