SCENE V.

_Enter_ Paulus (_a Poet_,) _and_ Licippus (_a Gent_.)

_Pau._ When is the Inauguration?

_Lic._ Why to morrow.

_Paul._ 'Twill be short time.

_Lic._ Any device that's handsome, A _Cupid_, or the God o'th' place will do it, Where he must take the _Fasces_.

_Pau._ Or a Grace.

_Lic._ A good Grace has no fellow.

_Pau._ Let me see, Will not his name yield something? _Maximus_ By th' way of Anagram? I have found out _Axis_, You know he bears the Empire.

_Lic._ Get him wheels too, 'Twill be a cruel carriage else.

_Pau._ Some songs too.

_Lic._ By any means some songs: but very short ones, And honest language _Paulus_, without bursting, The air will fall the sweeter.

_Pau._ A Grace must do it.

_Lic._ Why let a Grace then.

_Pau._ Yes it must be so; And in a Robe of blew too, as I take it.

_Lic._ This Poet is a little kin to th' Painter That could paint nothing but a ramping Lion, So all his learned fancies are blew Graces.

_Pau._ What think ye of a Sea-nymph, and a Heaven?

_Lic._ Why what should she do there man? there's no water.

_Pau._ That's true, it must be a Grace, and yet Me thinks a Rain bow.

_Lic._ And in blew.

_Pa[u]._ 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[u]._ 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?

_Pau._ It shall be a Grace, I'le do it.

_Lic._ Prethee do, And with as good a grace as thou canst possible; Good fury _Paulus_, be i'th' morning with me, And pray take measure of his mouth that speaks it. [_Exeunt._