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Some have thee call'd Amphion; some of us
Nam'd thee Terpander, or sweet Orpheus:
Some this, some that, but all in this agree,
Music had both her birth and death with thee.
Blacks, mourning garments.


908. A SONG UPON SILVIA.

From me my Silvia ran away,
And running therewithal
A primrose bank did cross her way,
And gave my love a fall.
But trust me now, I dare not say
What I by chance did see;
But such the drap'ry did betray
That fully ravished me.


909. THE HONEYCOMB.

If thou hast found an honeycomb,
Eat thou not all, but taste on some:
For if thou eat'st it to excess,
That sweetness turns to loathsomeness.
Taste it to temper, then 'twill be
Marrow and manna unto thee.


910. UPON BEN JONSON.

Here lies Jonson with the rest
Of the poets: but the best.
Reader, would'st thou more have known?
Ask his story, not this stone.
That will speak what this can't tell
Of his glory. So farewell.