Pa. Oh yes;
Hanging in arch above him, and i'th' midle—
Lic. A showre of Rain.
Pau. No, no, it must be a Grace.
Lic. Why prethee Grace him then.
Pa. Or Orpheus,
Coming from Hell.
Lic. In blew too.
Pau. 'Tis the better;
And as he rises, full of fires.
Lic. Now bless us,
Will not that spoil his Lutestrings, Paulus?
Pau. Singing,
And crossing of his arms.
Lic. How can he play then?