I.
Here, here, oh here! EURIDICE,
 Here was she slaine;
Her soule 'still'd through a veine:
 The gods knew lesse
That time divinitie,
 Then ev'n, ev'n these
 Of brutishnesse.

 II.
Oh! could you view the melodie
 Of ev'ry grace,
And musick of her face,
 You'd drop a teare,
Seeing more harmonie
 In her bright eye,
 Then now you heare.