There is a Lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleas'd my mind;
i did but see Her passing by,
And yet i love Her till i die.
Her gesture, motion, and Her smiles,
Her wit, Her voice, my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, i know not why,
And yet i love Her till i die.
Her free behaviour, winning looks,
Will make a lawyer burn his books;
i touch'd Her not, alas! not i,
And yet i love Her till i die.
(Thomas Ford, 1607)
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