Was it a forme, a gate, a grace

Was it a forme, a gate, a grace,

Was it their sweetnes, meerely?

Was it the Heav'n of a bright face,

That made me love so deerly?

Was it a skin of silk and snow,

That soule and sences wounded?

Was't any of these, or all of these,

Whereon my faith was founded?

Ah no! 'twas a far deeper part

Then all the rest that won me;

'Twas a fair cloath'd, but feigning heart,

I lov'd, and has undone me.