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.