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.