There is a lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleased 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 now why,
And yet I love her till I die.
Her free behavior, winning looks,
Will make a lawyer burn his books.
I touched her not, alas, not I,
And yet I love her till I die.
Had I her fast betwixt mine arms,
Judge you that think such sports were harms,
Were't any harm? No, no, fie, fie!
For I will love her till I die.
Should I remain confined there,
so long as Phoebus in his sphere,
I to request, she to deny
Yet would I love her till I die.
Cupid is winged and doth range;
Her country so my love doth change,
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.
By Thomas Ford
1580?–1648