Pan. Nothing.
Ron. Set your hands thus,
That the vertex of the organ may perpendicularly
Point at our zenith. What hear you now?
[Laughing within.
Pan. A humming noise of laughter.
Ron. Why, that's the court
And university, that now are merry
With an old gentlemen in a comedy. What now?
Pan. Celestial music; but it seems far off.
List, list! 'tis nearer now.
Ron. Tis music 'twixt the acts. What now?
Pan. Nothing.
Ron. And now?
Pan. Music again, and strangely delicate,
O, most angelical!
Ron. And now?
[They sing[250] within.]