Fire, fire,
Here’s one [still] left for thy desire,
Since that the Rainbow in the skye,
Is bent a deluge to deny,
As loth for thee a God should Lye.
Let gentle Rope come dangling down,
One born to hang shall never drown,
And since thou can’st not quench the Fire,
Go hang thy self, and thy desire!
(Latine Songs, 1685, p. 140.)