There is a Lady sweet and kind,

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 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 confinèd there
So long as Phœbus in his sphere,
I to request, she to deny,
Yet would I love her till I die.

Cupid is wingèd 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.

From Melismata, 1611.

There were three Ravens sat on a tree,—

There were three Ravens sat on a tree,—
They were as black as they might be:
With a down, derry derry derry down down!

The one of them said to his make[18]
Where shall we our breakfast take?