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.