And hollow caves of forrests now untreed
Beare his griefe company, and all things teacheth
His lost loves name; Then water, ayre, and ground
_Euridice, Euridice_ resound.
These are bould tales, of which the Greeks have store;
But if he could from Hell once more returne
And would compare his hand and voice with mine,
I, though himselfe were iudge, he then should see
How much the _Latine_ staines the _Thracian_ lyar.
I oft have walkt by _Tibers_ flowing bankes
And heard the Swan sing her own epitaph:
When she heard me she held her peace and died.
Let others raise from earthly things their praise;
Heaven hath stood still to hear my happy ayres
And ceast th'eternall Musicke of the _Spheares_
To marke my voyce and mend their tunes by mine.

_Neoph_. O divine voice!

_Epaphr_. Happy are they that heare it!

_Enter Tigellinus to them_.

_Nero_. But here comes _Tigellinus_; come, thy bill.
Are there so many? I see I have enemies.

_Epaphr_. Have you put _Caius_ in? I saw him frowne.

_Neoph_. And in the midst oth' Emperors action.
_Gallus_ laught out, and as I thinke in scorne.