SCENE I. A Chamber.

Truly I was so sleepy last Night, I know nothing of the adventure, for which you are kept so close a Prisoner to Day, and more strictly guarded than usual.

Cinthio came with Musick last Night under my Window, which my Father hearing sallyed out with his Mermidons upon him; and clashing of Swords I heard, but what hurt was done, or whether Cinthio were discovered to him, I know not; but the Billet I sent him now by Scaramouch, will occasion me soon intelligence.

Lord, how shou'd he do? Why, what a Laborious thing it is to be a Pimp?

So he is, as well as a Night adventuring Lover can be,——he has got but one wound, Madam.

How! wounded say you? Oh Heavens! 'Tis not Mortal?

Why, I have no great skill,—but they say it may be Dangerous.

Why, Madam, he is run—quit thorough the—heart,—but the Man may Live, if I please.

Why, Madam, there is a certain cordial Balsam, called a fair Lady, which outwardly applyed to his Bo­som, will prove a better cure than all your Weapon or Sympathetick Powder, meaning your Ladyship.

No otherwise than by your fair Eyes, Madam; he got away unseen and unknown.

Dost know how precious time is, and dost thou Fool it away thus? what said he to my Letter?

Why a hundred dear soft things of Love, kiss it as often, and bless me for my goodness.

Ask thee a thousand question of my health after my last nights fright.

Expressing all the kind concern Love cou'd inspire, for the punishment my Father has inflicted on me, for enter­taining him at my Window last Night.

And for my being confin'd a Prisoner to my Apart­ment, without the hope or almost possibility of seeing him any more.

There I think you are a little mistaken, for besides the Plot that I have laid to bring you together all this Night,—there are such Stratagems abrewing, not only to bring you together, but with your Fathers consent too; Such a Plot, Madam.

Ay that wou'd be worthy of thy Brain; prethee what—

Such a Canundrum,—well if there be wise Men and Conjurers in the World, they are intriguing Lovers.

You must know, Madam, your Father, (my Master, the Doctor,) is a little Whimsical, Romantick, or Don Quick-sottish, or so.—

That were uncivil to be supposed by me; but Lu­natick we may call him without breaking the Decorum of good Manners; for he is always travelling to the Moon.

And so Religiously believes there is a World there, that he discourses as gravely of the People, their Govern­ment, Institutions, Laws, Manners, Religion and Constitu­tion, as if he had been bred a Machiavel there.

With reading foolish Books, Lucian's Dialogue of the Lofty Traveller, who flew up to the Moon, and thence to Heaven; an Heroick business called, The Man in the Moon, if you'll believe a Spaniard, who was carried thether, upon an Engine drawn by wild Geese; with another Philosophi­cal Piece, A Discourse of the World in the Moon; with a thousand other ridiculous Volumes too hard to name.

Ay, this reading of Books is a pernicious thing. I was like to have run Mad once, reading Sir John Mandi­vel;—but to the business,—I went, as you know, to Don Cinthio's Lodgings, where I found him with his dear Friend Charmante, laying their heads together for a Farce.

A Farce.—

Ay a Farce, which shall be called,—the World in the Moon. Wherein your Father shall be so impos'd on, as shall bring matters most magnificently a­bout.—

I cannot conceive thee, but the design must be good since Cinthio and Charmante own it.

In order to this, Charmante is dressing himself like one of the Caballists of the Rosacrusian Order, and is coming [Page] to prepare my credulous Master for the greater imposition. I have his trinckets here to play upon him, which shall be ready.

Here, here, in this very House; I am to order the Decoration, adorn a Stage, and place Scenes proper.

How can this be done without my Father's know­ledge?

You know the old Apartment next the great Orchard, and the Worm-eaten Gallery, that opens to the River; which place for several years no Body has fre­quented, there all things shall be Acted proper for our purpose.

Run, Run Scaramouch, my Masters Conjuring for you like Mad below, he calls up all his little Divels with horrid Names, his Microscope, his Horoscope, his Telescope, and all his Scopes.

Here, here,—I had almost forgot the Letters; here's one for you, and one for Mrs. Bellemante.

And so would yours had they been so well im­ployed as mine, this Morning. I have been at the Cha­pel; and seen so many Beaus, such a Number of Plumeys, I cou'd not tell which I shou'd look on most, sometimes my heart was charm'd with the gay Blonding, then with the Melancholy Noire, annon the amiable brunet, some­times the bashful, then again the bold; the little now, anon the lovely tall! In fine, my Dear, I was embarass'd on all sides, I did nothing but ideal my heart tout au toore.

That's when he's present only, and makes his Court to me; I can sigh to a Lover, but will never sigh after him,—but Oh the Beaus, the Beaus, Cousin, that I saw at Church.

And so I had; for I did nothing but admire its han­dy work, but I cou'd not have pray'd heartily if I had been dying; but a deuce on't, who shou'd come in and spoyl all but my Lover Charmante, so drest, so Gallant, that he drew together all the scatter'd fragments of my heart, confin'd my wandering thoughts, and fixt 'em all on him; Oh how he look't, how he was dress'd!

—Oh what a dear ravishing thing is the beginning of an Amour?

Thou'rt still in Tune, when wilt thou be tame, Bellemante?

MAlicious Creature, when wilt thou cease to torment me, and either appear less charming or more kind. I languish when from you, and am wounded when I see you, and yet I am eternally Courting my Pain. Cinthio and I are contriving how we shall see you to Night. Let us not toyl in vain; we ask but your consent; the pleasure will be all ours; 'tis therefore fit we suffer all the fatigue. Grant this, and Love me, if you will save the Life of

Your Charmante.

[Page] —Live then Charmante! Live, as long as Love can last!

Well, Cousin, Scaramouch tells me of a rare design's a hatching, to relieve us from this Captivity; here are we mew'd up to be espous'd to two Moon-calfs for ought I know; for the Devil of any Human thing is suffer'd to come near us, without our Governante and Keeper, Mr. Scaramouch.

Who, if he had no more Honesty, and Conscience, than my Uncle, wou'd let us pine for want of Lovers; but thanks be prais'd the Generosity of our Cavaliers has open'd their obdurate Hearts with a Golden key, that let's 'em in at all opportunities. Come, come, let's in, and answer their Billet Deux.

SCENE II. A Garden.

SET down the Telescope.—Let me see, what Hour is it?

Then 'tis about the Hour, that the great Monarch of the upper World enters into his Closet; Mount, mount the Telescope.

I understand, at certain moments Critical, one may be snatch't of such a mighty consequence to let the sight into the secret Closet.

How, Sir, Peep into the Kings Closet; under fa­vour, Sir, that will be something uncivil.

Uncivil, it were slat Trenson if it shou'd be known, but thus unseen, and as wise Politicians shou'd, I take Survey of all: This is the States-man's peeping-hole, thorow which he Steals the secrets of his King, and seems to wink at di­stance.

The very key-hole, Sir, thorow which with half [Page] an Eye, he sees him even at his Devotion, Sir.

Oh, Sir, Sir, here's some strange great Man come to wait on you.

Nay, from the Moon World, for ought I know, for he looks not like the People of the lower Orb.

Doctor Baliardo, most learned Sir, all Hail; Hail from the great Caballa—of Eutopia.

The Fame of your great Learning, Sir, and Ver­tue, is known with Joy to the renown'd Society.

Fame, Sir, has done me too much Honour, to bear my Name to the renown'd Caballa.

You must not attribute it all to Fame, Sir, they are too learned and wise to take up things from Fame, Sir; our intleligence is by ways more secret and sublime, the Stars, and little Daemons of the Air inform us all things, past, present, and to come.

I must confess the Count of Gabalist, renders it plain, from Writ Divine and Humane, there are such friendly and intleligent Daemons.

I hope you do not doubt that Doctrine, Sir, which holds that the Four Elements are Peopl'd with Persons of a Form and Species more Divine than Vulgar Mortals—those of the fiery Regions we call the Salamanders, they beget Kings and Heroes, with Spirits like their Deietical Sires the lovely Inhabitants of the Water, we call Nymphs. Those of the Earth are Gnomes or Fayries. Those of the Air are Silfs. These, Sir, when in Conjunction with Mor­tals, [Page] beget Immortal Races. Such as the first born man, which had continu'd so, had the first Man ne'er doated on a Wo­man.

I am of that opinion, Sir, Man was not made for Woman.

Most certain, Sir, Man was to have been Immor­talliz'd by the Love and Conversation of these Charming Silfs and Nymphs, and Woman by the Gnomes and Sala­manders, and to have stock'd the World with Demy Gods, such as at this Day inhabit the Empire of the Moon.

Most admirable Philosophy and Reason.—But do these Silfs and Nymphs appear in shapes?

Of the most Beautiful of all the Sons and Daugh­ters of the Universe: Fancy, Imagination is not half so Charming: And then so soft, so kind! but none but the Caballa and their Families are blest with their Divine Ad­dresses. Were you but once admitted to that Society.—

Ay, Sir, what Vertues or what Merits can accom­plish me for that' great Honour?

An absolute abstinence from carnal thought, de­vout and pure of Spirit; free from Sin.

I dare not boast my Vertues, Sir; Is there no way to try my Purity?

If you be throwly purg'd from Vice, the opticles of your sight will be so illuminated, that glancing through this Telescope, you may behold one of these lovely Crea­tures, that people the vast Region of the Air.

Methinks I see a kind of Glorious Cloud drawn up—and now—'tis gone again.

Then make a short Prayer to Alikin, the Spirit of the East; shake off all Earthly thoughts, and look again.

—Astonisht, Ravisht with delight, I see a Beauty young and Angel like, leaning upon a Cloud—

Seems she on a Bed, then she's reposing, and you must not gaze—

She saw you peeping then, and drew the Curtain of the Air between.

I am all Rapture, Sir, at this rare Vision—is't possible, Sir, that I may ever hope the Conversation of so Divine a Beauty?

Most possible, Sir; they will Court you, their whole delight is to Immortallize—Alexander was be­got by a Salamander, that visited his Mother in the form of a Serpent, because he wou'd not make King Philip Jealous, and that famous Philosopher Merlin, was begotten on a Vestal Nun, a certain Kings Daughter, by a most beauti­ful young Salamander; as indeed all the Heroes, and men of mighty minds are.

The Nymph Egeria inamour'd on Nama Pompi­lius, came to him invisible to all Eyes else, and gave him all his Wisdom and Philosophy. Zoriastes, Trismegistus, Apuleius, Aquinius, Albertus Magnus, Socrates and Vir­gil had their Zilphid, which foolish people call'd their Daemon or Devill. But you are wise, Sir.—

But do you imagine Sir, they will fall in Love with an old Mortal?

They love not like the Vulgar, 'tis the Immortal Part they doat upon.

But Sir, I have a Neece and Daughter which I love equally, were it not possible they might be Immor­talliz'd?

I think they are, and I'll take care to keep 'em so; for I confess Sir, I wou'd fain have a Hero to my Grand­son.

You never saw the Emperor of the Moon, Sir, the mighty Iredonozar?

Refine your Thoughts Sir, by a moments Pray, and try again.

It is too much, too much for mortal Eyes! I see a Monarch seated on a Throne—But seems most sad and pensive.

Forbear then Sir, for now his Love-Fit's on, and then he wou'd be private.

Yes, but her Quality being too mean, he struggles, tho' a King 'twixt Love and Honour.

'Tis yet unknown, Sir, to the Caballists, who now are using all their Arts to find her, and serve his Majesty; but now my great Affair deprives me of you: To morrow Sir, I'll wait on you again; and now I've try'd your Ver­tue, tell you Wonders.

So, so, Don Charmante has plaid his Part most ex­quisitely; I'll in and see how it works in his Pericranium.—Did you call Sir?

Scaramouch, I have, for thy singular Wit and Ho­nesty, always had a Tenderness for thee above that of a Master to a Servant.

And I may make thee great,—all I require, is, that thou wilt double thy diligent Care of my Daughter and my Neece, for there are mighty things design'd for them, if we can keep 'em from the sight of Man.

What Antidote is there to be given to a young Wench, against the Disease of Love and Longing?

Do you your Part, and because I know thee Dis­creet and very Secret, I will hereafter discover Wonders to thee.—On pain of Life, look to the Girls; that's your Charge.

Doubt me not, Sir, and I hope your Reverence will reward my faithful Service with Mopsophil, your Daugh­ters Governante, who is Rich, and has long had my Af­fection, Sir.

Set not thy Heart on Transitories mortal, there's better things in store—besides, I have promis'd her to a Farmer for his Son.—Come in with me, and bring the Telescope.

My Mistriss Mopsophil to marry a Farmers Son!

What, am I then forsaken, abandon'd by the false fain One?

—If I have Honour, I must die with Rage;

Reproaching gently, and complaining madly.

—It is resolv'd, I'll hang my self—No,—When did I ever hear of a Hero that hang'd himself? no—'tis the Death of Rogues. What If I drown my self?—

[Page 13] No,—Useless Dogs and Puppies are drown'd; a Pistol or a Caper on my own Sword wou'd look more nobly, but that I have a natural Aversion to Pain. Besides, it is as Vulgar as Rats-bane, or the sliceing of the Weasand. No, I'll die a Death uncommon, and leave behind me an eter­nal Fame. I have somewhere read an Author, either Anti­ent or Modern, of a Man that laugh'd to death.—I am very Ticklish, and am resolv'd—to dye that Death.—Oh Mopsophil, my cruel Mopsophil!

—And now, farewel the World, fond Love, and mortal Cares.

Harlequin was left in the Garden, I'll tell him the News of Mopsophil.

Ha, whats here? Harlequin Dead!—

I came to bemoan with thee, the mutual loss of our Mistriss.

I know it Sir, I know it, and that thou'rt as false as she: Was't not a Covenant between us, that neither shou'd take advantage of the other, but both shou'd have fair Play, and yet you basely went to undermine me, and ask her of the Doctor; but since she's gone, I scorn to quarrel for her—But let's like loving Brothers, hand in hand, leap from some Precipice into the Sea.

What, and spoil all my Cloths? I thank you for that; no, I have a newer way: you know I lodge four pair of Stairs high, let's ascend thither, and after saying our Prayers—

—Prayers! I never heard of a dying Hero that ever pray'd.

Well, I'll not stand with you for a Trifle—Being come up, I'll open the Casement, take you by the Heels, and fling you out into the Street,—after which, you have no more to do, but to come up and throw me down in my turn.

The Atchievment's great and new; but now I think on't, I'm resolv'd to hear my Sentence from the Mouth of the perfidious Trollop, for yet I cannot cre­dit it.

I'll to the Gypsie, tho' I venture banging,

To be undeceiv'd, 'tis hardly worth the hanging.

SCENE II: The Chamber of Bellemante.

SO, I have got rid of my Rival, and shall here got an Opportunity to speak with Mopsophil, for hither she must come anon, to lay the young Ladies Night-things in order; I'll hide my self in some Corner till she come.

So, I made my Rival believe I was gone, and hid my self, till I got this Opportunity to steal to Mopsophil's Apartment, which must be hereabouts, for from these Windows she us'd to entertain my Love.

Ha, I hear a soft Tread,—if it were Mopso­phil's, she wou'd not come by Dark.

What was that?—a Table,—There I may obscure my self.—

—What a Devil, is it vanish'd?

Devil,—Vanish'd,—What can this mean? 'Tis a Mans Voice.—If it shou'd be my Master the Doctor, now I were a dead Man;—he can't see me,—and I'll put my self into such a Posture, that if he feel me, he shall as soon take me for a Church Spout as a Man.

Ha, what's this? all Mouth, with twenty Rows of Teeth.—Now dare not I cry out, least the Doctor shou'd come, find me here, and kill me.—I'll try if it be mortal.—

Who the Devil can this be? I felt a Poniard, and am glad I sav'd my Skin from pinking.

I am in a Belle Humor for Poetry to Night,—I'll make some Boremes on Love.

Out of a great Curiosity,—A Shepherd did demand of me.—No, no,—A Shepherd this implor'd of me.—

Ay, ay, so it shall go.—Tell me, said he,—Can you Resign?—Resign, ay,—what shall Rhime to Resign?—Tell me, said he,—

Ay, Ay,—So it shall be,—Tell me, said he, my Bellemante;—Will you be kind to your Charmante?

—Ha,—Heav'ns! What's this? I am amaz'd!

—And yet I'll venture once more.—

—I blush'd, and veil'd my wishing Eyes.

—Wishing Eyes—

—And answer'd only with my Sighs.

Mistaken! What, did you take me for, an easie Fool to be impos'd upon?—One that wou'd be cuckolded by every feather'd Fool; that you shou'd call a—Beau un Gallant Huome. 'sdeath! Who wou'd doat upon a fond She-Fop?—A vain conceited Amorous Cocquett.

I will not hide, till I know the thing that made the Verses.

She's coming Sir.—Where, where shall I hide him?—Oh, the Closet's open!

Oh Neece! Ill Luck, Ill Luck, I must leave you to night; my Brother the Advocate is sick, and has sent for me; 'tis three long Leagues, and dark as 'tis, I must go.—They say he's dying. *[Pulls out his; Keys one falls down. Here, take my Keys, and go into my Study, and look over all my Papers, and bring me all those Mark'd with a Cross and Figure of Three, they concern my Brother and I.

—Come Scaramouch, and get me ready for my Journey, and on your Life, let not a Door be open'd till my Return.

Well, 'tis a delicious thing to be Rich; what a World of Lovers it invites: I have one for every Hand, and the Favorite for my Lips.

But of all my Lovers, I am for the Farmers Son, because he keeps a Calash—and I'll swear a Coach is the most agreeable thing about a man.

'Twas contrary to our League and Covenant; therefore I defy thee as a Traytor.

I scorn to fight with thee, because I once call'd thee Brother.

Then thou'rt a Paltroon, that's to say, a Co­ward.

Pardon me, Sir, I gave the Coward, and you ought to strike.

—If you be for dancing, Sir, I have my Weapons for all occasions.

But not altogether so Heroick, [...]. Well, for the future, let us have fair Play; no Tricks to undermine each other, but which of us is chosen to be the happy Man, the other shall be content.

'Slife, let's be gone, lest we be seen in the Ladies Apartment.

I came to tell you, Madam, my Master's just tak­ing Mule to go his Journey to Night, and that Don Cin­thio is in the Street, for a lucky moment to enter in.

But what if any one by my Fathers Order, or he himself, shou'd by some chance surprise us?

If we be, I have taken order against a Discovery. I'll go see if the old Gentleman be gone, and return with your Lover.

I tremble, but know not whether 'tis with Fear or Joy.

Why this Concern? none of the House has seen me. I saw your Father taking Horse.

Here I must have dropt it; a Light, a Light—there—

Oh this perfidious Woman! no marvel she was so surpris'd and angry at my Approach to Night.—

Mad, stark mad! Why Sirrah, Rogue—Scara­mouch—How got this mad Man in?

Oh, thou perfidious Maid! Who hast thou hid in yonder conscious Closet?

Why Sir, he was brought in a Chair for your Ad­vice, but how he rambl'd from the Parlour to this Chamber, I know not.

Alas poor Gentleman, he's past all Cure—But Sirrah, for the future, take you care that no young mad Patients be brought into my House.

I shall Sir,—and see—here's your Key you look'd for.—

That's well; I must be gone—Bar up the Doors, and upon Life or Death let no man enter.

Who the Devil cou'd that be that pull'd me from the Closet? but at last I'm free, and the Doctors gone; I'll to Cinthio, and bring him to pass this Night with our Mistrisses.

Now for this lucky Rival, if his Stars will make this last part of his Adventure such. I hid my self in the next Chamber, till I heard the Doctor go, only to return to be reveng'd.

Scaramouch tells me Charmante is conceal'd in the Closet, whom Cinthio surely has mistaken for some Lover of mine, and is jealous; but I'll send Charmante after him, to make my peace and undeceive him.

—Sir, Sir, Where are you? they are all gone, you may adventure out.

—Ha,—Cinthio here!—

—But since my Ignorance of his Person saves his Life, live and possess him, till I can discover him.

SCENE I. An Antick Dance.

Fatigu'd with the most disagreeable Affair, for a Person of my Humour, in the World. Oh, how I hate [Page 23] Business, which I do no more mind, than a Spark does the Sermon, who is ogling his Mistriss at Church all the while: I have been ruffling over twenty Reams of Paper for my Uncles Writings.—

So, so, the Old Gentleman is departed this wick­ed World, and the House is our own for this Night.—Where are the Sparks? Where are the Sparks?

How! I hope not so; I left Charmante confin'd to my Closet, when my Uncle had like to have surpriz'd us together: Is he not here?—

My Father was coming into the Chamber, and had like to have taken Cinthio with me, when, to conceal him, I put him into your Closet, not knowing of Char­mante's being there, and which, in the Dark, he took for a Gallant of mine; had not my Fathers Presence hinder'd, I believe there had been Murder committed; how ever, they both escap'd unknown.

Pshaw, is this all? Lovers Quarrels are soon ad­justed; I'll to 'em, unfold the Riddle, and bring 'em back—take no care, but go in and dress you for the Ball; Mop­sophil has Habits which your Lovers sent to put on: the Fidles Treat, and all are prepar'd.—

Madam, your Cousin Florinda, with a Lady, are come to visit you.

I'm glad on't, 'tis a good Wench, and we'll trust her with our Mirth and Secret.

SCENE Changes. To the Street.

You may inform your self I believe, for these close Intrigues cannot be carried on without your Knowledge.

Thou Dog,—I felt him too; but since the Rascal scaped me—I'll be Reveng'd on thee—

Ay, we that spend our Lives and Fortunes here to serve you,—to be us'd like Pimps and Scowndrels.—Come Sir,—satisfie him who 'twas was hid i'th Closet, when he came in and found you.

Was it you, Cinthio? Pox on't, what Fools are we, we cou'd not know one another by Instinct?

Well, well, dispute no more this clear Case, but lets hasten to your Mistrisses.

Come, come, take Heart of Grace; pull your Hats down over your Eyes; put your Arms across; sigh and look scurvily; your simple Looks are ever a Token of Repentance; come—come along.

SCENE changes to the Inside of the House. The Front of the Scene is only a Curtain or Hangings to be drawn up at Pleasure.

Your Lovers have a very good Fancy, Cousin, I long to see 'em.

And so do I. I wonder Scaramouch stays so, and what Success he has.

you have no cause to doubt, you can so easily ac­quit your self; but I, what shall I do? who can no more imagine who shou'd write those Boremes, than who I shall love next, if I break off with Charmante.

If he be a Man of Honour, Cousin, when a Maid protests her Innocence——

Ay, but he's a Man of Wit too, Cousin, and knows when Women protest most, they likely lye most.

That's according to the Disposition of your Lo­ver, for some believe you most, when you most abuse and cheat 'em; some are so obstinate, they wou'd damn a Woman with protesting, before she can convince 'em.

Such a one is not worth convincing, I wou'd not make the World wise at the expence of a Vertue.

Nay, he shall e'en remain as Heaven made him for me, since there are Men enough for all uses.

That, Cinthio, you're convinc'd, I do not wonder; but how Charmante's Goodness is inspir'd, I know not.

Oh! we shall have time enough for that hereaf­ter; besides, you may make Love in Dancing as well as in Sitting; you may Gaze, Sigh,—and press the Hand, and now and then receive a Kiss, what wou'd you more?

We were unreasonable to sorbid you that cold Joy, nor shall you wish long in vain, if you bring Matters so about, to get us with my Uncle's Consent.

Our Fortunes depending solely on his Pleasure, which is too considerable to lose.

All things are order'd as I have written you at large; our Scenes and all our Properties are ready; we [Page] have no more to do but to banter the old Gentleman into a little more Faith, which the next Visit of our new Ca­ballist Charmante will compleat.

Your Dancers have perform'd well, but 'twere fit we knew who we have trusted with this Evenings In­trigue.

Those, Madam, who are to assist us in carrying on a greater Intrigue, the gaining of you. They are our Kins­men.

Hark, what Noise is that? sure 'tis in the next Room.

Scaramouch, Scaramouch!

Ha,—the Devil in the likeness of my old Ma­sters Voice, for 'tis impossible it shou'd be he himself.

If it be he, how got he in? did you not secure the Doors?

He always has a Key to open 'em. Oh! what shall we do? there's no escaping him; he's in the next Room, through which you are to pass.

'Tis he, 'tis he, follow me all—

I tell you Sirrah, I heard the Noise of Fiddles.

No surely Sir, 'twas a Mistake.

'Twere good for you, Sir, if I were a thing of Air; but as I am a substantial Mortal, I will lay it on as substantially—

Sirrah, must I stand waiting your Leisure, while you are Rogueing here? I will reward ye.

Ay, and I shall deserve it richly, Sir, when you know all.

I guess all, Sirrah, and I heard all, and you shall be rewarded for all. Where have you hid the Fiddles, you Rogue?

Fiddles, Sir! Sure 'twas Wind got into your Head, and whistled in your Ears, riding so late, Sir.

Ay, thou false Varlot, there's another Debt I owe thee, for bringing me so damnable a Lye: My Brother's well—I met his Valet but a League from Town, and found thy Rogury out.

Is this the Reward I have for being so diligent since you went?

Why look you, Sir, I have, to surprise you with Pleasure, against you came home, been putting up this Piece of Tapestry, the best in Italy, for the Rareness of the Figures, Sir.

Ha—Hum—It is indeed a stately Piece of Work; how came I by 'em?

'Twas sent your Reverence from the Vertuoso, or some of the Caballists.

I must confess, the Workmanship is excellent,—but still I do insist I heard the Musick.

'Twas then the tuning of the Spheres, some seri­nade, Sir, from the Inhabitants of the Moon.

Hum,—from the Moon,—and that may be—

From the Moon, a Serinade,—I see no signs on't here, indeed it must be so—I'll think on't more at leisure.—

—Prithee what Story's this?

Ha,—Is that Imagination too—Betray'd, be­tray'd, undone; run for my Pistols, call up my Servants Peter, a Plot upon my Daughter and my Neece.

Here, here, fear nothing, hold by each other, that when I go out, all may go; that is, slip out, when you hear the Doctor is come in again, which he will cer­tainly do, and all depart to your respective Lodgings.

Take you no care for that, I'll put it into my Bill of Charges, and be paid all together.

What, by dark? that shall not save you, Villains, Traytors to my Glory and Repose.—Peter, hold fast the Door, let none escape.

Lights there—Lights—I'm sure they cou'd not scape.

Ay Sir, Did you not go out of Town last night, to your Brother the Advocate?

Thou Villain, thou question'st me, as if thou knew'st not that I was return'd.

I know, Sir! how shou'd I know? I'm sure I am but just wak'd from the sweetest Dream—

You dream still, Sirrah, but I shall wake your Rogueship.—Were you not here but now, shewing me a piece of Tapestry, you Villain?—

Tell me, and tell me quickly, Rogue, who were those Traytors that were hid but now in the Disguise of a piece of Hangings.

Bless me! you amaze me, Sir. What conformity has every Word you say, to my rare Dream: Pray let me feel you, Sir,—Are you Humane?

Confess, Sir! What shou'd I confess?—I understand not your Caballistical Language; but in mine, I confess that you have wak'd me from the rarest Dream—Where methought the Emperor of the Moon World was in our House, Dancing and Revelling; and methoughts his Grace was fallen desperately in Love with Mistriss Elaria, and that his Brother, the Prince, Sir, of Thunderland, was also in Love with Mistriss Bellemante; and methoughts they descended to court 'em in your Absence.—And that at last you surpris'd 'em, and that they transform'd them­selves into a Suit of Hangings to deceive you. But at last, methought you grew angry at something, and they all sled to Heaven again; and after a deal of Thunder and Lightning, I wak'd, Sir, and hearing Humane Voices here, came to see what the Matter was.

Credit it! By all the Honour of your House, by my unseparable Veneration for the Mathematicks, 'tis true, Sir.

—That famous Rosacrusian, who yesterday vi­sited me, told me—the Emperor of the Moon was in Love with a fair Mortal—This Dream is Inspira­tion in this Fellow—He must have wonderous Ver­tue [Page] in him, to be worthy of these Divine Intelligences.

—But if that Mortal shou'd be Elaria! but no more, I dare not yet suppose it—perhaps the thing was re­al and no Dream, for oftentimes the grosser part is hurried away in Sleep, by the force of Imagination, and is won­derfully agitated—This Fellow might be present in his Sleep,—of this we've frequent Instances—I'll to my Daughter and my Neece, and hear what knowledge they may have of this.

Will you so? I'll secure you, the Frolick shall go round.

Scaramouch, If you have not deceiv'd me in this Matter, time will convince me farther; if it rest here, I shall believe you false—

Good Sir, suspend your Judgment and your Anger then.

No, Sir, 'tis Morning now—and I'm up for all day.—This Madness is a pretty sort of a pleasant Disease, when it tickles but in one Vein—Why here's my Master now, as great a Scholar, as grave and wise a Man, in all Argument and Discourse, as can be met with, yet name but the Moon, and he runs into Ridicule, and grows as mad as the Wind.

Well Doctor, if thou can'st be madder yet,

We'll find a Medicine that shall cure your Fit.

—Better than all Gallanicus.

You have your Lessons, stand to it bravely, and the Town's our own, Madam.

How little Faith I give to all your Courtship, who leaves our Orb so soon.

The Moon, the Moon she means, I am Trans­ported, Over-joy'd, and Ecstacy'd.

Hide nothing from me, my dear Bellemante, since all already is discover'd to me—and more.—

Oh, why have you wak'd me from the softest Dream that ever Maid was blest with?

Methought I entertain'd a Demi-God, one of the gay Inhabitants of the Moon.

I'm sure mine was no Dream—I wak'd, I heard, I saw, I spoke—and danc'd to the Musick of the Spheres, and methought my glorious Lover ty'd a Dia­mond Chain about my Arm——and see 'tis all substan­tial.

Heaven keep me moderate! least excess of Joy shou'd make my Vertue less.

[Page 34] —There is a wonderous Mystery in this.

A mighty Blessing does attend your Fates.

Go in, and pray to the chast Powers above

To give you Vertue fit for such Rewards.

—How this agrees with what the learned Caballist inform'd me of last Night! He said, that great Iredonozor, the Emperor of the Moon, was inamour'd on a fair Mortal. It must be so—and either he descended to Court my Daugh­ter Personally, which, for the Rareness of the Novelty, she takes to be a, Dream; or else, what they and I beheld, was Visionary, by way of a sublime Intelligence.—And pos­sibly—'tis only thus—the People of that World converse with Mortals.—I must be satisfy'd in this main Point of deep Philosophy.

I'll to my Study,—for I cannot rest,

Till I this weighty Mystery have discuss'd.

SCENE. The Garden.

THo' I am come off en Cavalier with my Ma­ster, I am not with my Mistriss, whom I promised to console this Night, and is but just I shou'd make good this Morning; 'twill be rude to surprize her Sleeping, and more Gallant to wake her with a Serinade at her Window.

If I can now but get admittance, I shall not only deliver the young Ladies their Letters from their Lovers, but get some opportunity, in this Disguise, to slip this Bil­let Deux into Mopsophil's Hand, and bob my Comrade Scaramouch.—Ha,—What do I see?—My Mistriss at the Window, courting my Rival! Ah Gypsie!—

—But we lose precious time, since you design me a kind Hour in your Chamber.

The Woman's mad—hark ye Jade—how long have you been thus distracted?

I am resolv'd to marry to morrow—either to the Apothecary or the Farmer, men I never saw, to be re­veng'd on thee, thou tarmagant Infidel.

I came, an't like your Seigniorship, to Madam the Governante here, to serve her in the Quality of a Fille de Chambre, to the young Ladies.

Stay, stay, Mistriss, and what Service are you able to do the Seigniors Daughters?

Why Seignior, I can tye a Cravat the best of any Person in Naples, and I can comb a Periwig—and I can—

Very proper Service for young Ladies; you, I believe, have been Fille de Chambre to some young Ca­valiers.

Most true, Seignior, why shou'd not the Cava­liers keep Filles de Chambre, as well as great Ladies Vallets de Chambre?

I surely, Sir, what is she else? for she wore her Mantoes of Brokad de or, Petticoats lac'd up to the Ga­thers, [Page 38] her Points, her Patches, Paints and Perfumes, and sate in the uppermost Place in the Church to.

Oh, yes, Madam! the last I serv'd, was an Al­dermans Wife in the City.

Ay, certainly—for they have all the Money; and then for Cloths, Jewels, and rich Furniture, and eat­ing, they outdo the very Vice Reigne her self.

This is a very ignorant running Bawd,—there­fore first search her for Bellets Deux, and then have her Pump'd.

If you have, 'tis but Trick for your Trick, Seignior Scaramouch, and you may spare the Pumping.

For once, Sirrah, I'll bring you off, and deliver your Letters.—Sir, do you not know who this is?—Why 'tis a Rival of mine, who put on this Disguise to cheat me of Mistriss Mopsophil.—See hear's a Billet to her.—

A Mungrel Dancing-Master; therefore, Sir, since all the Injury's mine, I'll pardon him for a Dance, and let the Agility of his Heels save his Bones, with your Permis­sion, Sir.

With all my Heart, and am glad he comes off so comically.

Blest be those Stars! that first conducted me to so much Worth and Vertue, you are their Darling, Sir, for whom they wear their brightest Lustre.

Your Fortune is establish'd, you are made, Sir.

After long Searching, Watching, Fasting, Pray­ing, and using all the vertuous means in Nature, whereby we solely do attain the highest Knowledge in Philosophy; it was resolv'd, by strong Intelligence—you were the happy Sire of that Bright Nymph, that had insas­cinated, charm'd and conquer'd the mighty Emperor Ire­donozor—the Monarch of the Moon.

Hum—Say you so, Sir? no Emperor ever de­scend this Sixty hundred years?

—Was I deceiv'd last night?

Oh! Yes, Sir, often in disguise, in several Shapes and Forms, which did of old occasion so many Fabulous Tales of all the Shapes of Jupiter——but never in their proper Glory, Sir, as Emperors. This is an Honour only design'd to you.

In Person—and with him, a Man of mighty Quality, Sir,—'tis thought—the Prince of Thun­derland—but that's but whisper'd, Sir, in the Cabal, and that he loves your Neece.

Miraculous! how this agrees with all I've seen and heard—To Night, say you, Sir?

So 'tis conjectur'd, Sir,—some of the Cabal­list—are of opinion—that last night there was some Sally from the Moon.

The Meridian of the Night, Sir, about the hours of twelve or one, but who descended, or in what Shape, is yet uncertain.

Most certain, Sir.

But whether they appear'd in solid Bodies, or Fantomical, is yet a Question, for at my unlucky approach, they all transform'd themselves into a Piece of Hangings.

'Tis frequent, Sir, their Shapes are numerous, and 'tis also in their Power to transform all they touch, by vertue of a certain Stone—they call the Ebula.

The same—by Vertue of which, all weight was taken from him, and then with ease the lofty Traveller flew from Parnassus Hill, and from Hymethus Mount, and high Gerania, and Acrocorinthus, thence to Taygetus, so to Olympus Top, from whence he had but one step to the Moon. Dizzy he grants he was.

Your Vertue, Sir, will render you as happy—but I must hast—this Night prepare your Daughter and your Neece, and let your House be Dress'd, Perfum'd, and Clean.

Be modest, Sir, and humble in your Elevation, for nothing shews the Wit so poor, as Wonder, nor Birth so mean, as Pride.

I humbly thank your Admonition, Sir, and shall, in all I can, struggle with Humane Frailty.

So, so, all things go gloriously forward, but my own Amour, and there is no convincing this obstinate Woman, that 'twas that Rogue Harlequin in Disguise, that claim'd me; so that I cannot so much as come to de­liver the young Ladies their Letters from their Lovers. I must get in with this damn'd Mistriss of mine, or all our Plot will be spoil'd for want of Intelligence.

—Hum,—The Devil does not use to sail me at a dead Lift. I must deliver these Letters, and I must have this Wench—tho' but to be reveng'd on her for abu­sing me.—Let me see—she is resolv'd for the Apothecary or the Farmer. Well, say no more honest Scaramouch, thou shalt find a Friend at need of me—and if I do not fit you with a Spouse, say that a Woman has out-witted me.

SCENE I. The Street, with the Town Gate, where an Officer stands with a Staff like a London Constable.

HOld, hold, Sir, you, I suppose know the Customs that are due to this City of Naples, from all Persons that pass the Gates in Coach, Chariot, Ca­lash, or Siege Voglant.

I am not ignorant of the Custom, Sir, but what's that to me?

Not to you, Sir! why, what Privilege have you above the rest?

Why for passing, Sir, with any of the before named Carriages.

Ar't mad?—Dost not see I am a plain Ba­ker, and this my Cart, that comes to carry Bread for the Vice-Roy's, and the Cities Use?—ha—

Are you mad, Sir, to think I cannot see a Gentleman Farmer and a Calash, from a Baker and a Cart?

Drunk by this Day—and so early too? Oh you're a special Officer; unhand my Horse, Sirrah, or you shall pay for all the Damage you do me.

Here's a Fellow, Sir, will perswade me, his Calash is a Cart, and refuses the Customs for passing the Gate.

A Calash—Where?—I see only a Carter and his Cart.

Mr. Clerk, I am a Baker, that come with Bread to sell, and this Fellow here has stopt me this hour, and made me lose the Sale of my Ware—and being Drunk, will out-face me I am a Farmer, and this Cart a Calash.—

No Sir, I'll have satisfaction first, or the Vice-Roy shall know how he's serv'd by drunken Officers, that Nui­sance to a Civil Government.

This is very hard—Mr. Clerk—If ever I saw in my Life, I thought I saw a Gentleman and a Calash.

Stark Drunk, Sirrah! if you trouble me at every Mistake of yours thus, you shall quit your Office.—

I beg your Pardon, Sir, I am a little in Drink I confess, a little Blind and Mad—Sir,—This must be the Devil, that's certain.

—Well, now to my thinking, 'tis as plain a Calash again, as ever I saw in my Life, and yet I'm satisfy'd 'tis nothing but a Cart.

SCENE changes to the Doctors House. The Hall.

THe Devil's in't, if either the Doctor, my Ma­ster, or Mopsophil, know me in this Dis­guise—And thus I may not only gain my Mistriss, and out-wit Harlequin, but deliver the Ladies those Let­ters from their Lovers, which I took out of his Pocket this Morning, and who wou'd suspect an Apothecary for a Pimp.—Nor can the Jade Mopsophil, in Honour, re­fuse a Person of my Gravity, and so well set up.—

—Hum, the Doctor here first, this is not so well, but I'm prepar'd with Impudence for all Encounters.

—Most Reverend Doctor Baliardo.—

I might, through great Pusillanimity, blush—to give you this Anxiety. Did I not opine you were as Gracious as Communitive and Eminent; and tho' you have no Cognisance of me, your Humble Servant,—yet I have of you,—you being so greatly sam'd for your admirable Skill, both in Gallenical and Paracelsian Phaenomena's, and other approv'd Felicities in Vulnerary Emeticks, and purgative Experiences.

Seignior,—your Opinion honours me—a rare Man this.

And though I am at present busied in writing—those few Observations I have accumulated in my Peregri­nations, Sir, yet the Ambition I aspir'd to, of being an Ocular and Aurial Witness of your Singularity, made me trespass on your sublimer Affairs.

—Besides a violent Inclination, Sir, of being ini­tiated into the Denomination of your Learned Family, by the Conjugal Circumference of a Matrimonial Tye, with that singularly accomplish'd Person—Madam, the Go­vernante of your Hostel.

And if I may obtain your Condescension to my Hymenaeal Propositions, I doubt not my Operation with the Fair One.

Seignior, she is much honour'd in the Over­ture, and my Abilities shall not be wanting to fix the Concord.

—But have you been a Traveller, Sir?

Without Circumlocutions, Sir, I have seen all the Regions beneath the Sun and Moon.

Not in Propria Persona, Seignior, but by specula­tion, I have, and made most considerable Remarques on [Page 46] that incomparable Terra Firma, of which I have the com­pleatest Map in Christendom—and which Gonzales himself omitted in his Cosmographia of the Lunar Mundus.

A Map of the Lunar Mundus, Sir! May I crave the Honour of seeing it?

You shall, Sir, together with a Map of Terra In­cognita, a great Rarety, indeed, Sir.

Ha,—What Figure of a Thing have we here—Bantering my Credulous Uncle?—This must be some Scout sent from our Forlorn Hope, to disco­ver the Enemy, and bring in fresh Intelligence.—Hum,—That Wink tipt me some Tidings, and she deserves not a good Look, who understands not the Language of the Eyes.—Sir, Dinner's on the Table.

Ha,—'tis so,—This fellow has some Novel for us, some Letters or Instructions, but how to get it—

But this Map, Seignior; I protest you have fill'd me with Curiosity. Has it signify'd all things so exactly say you?

Omitted nothing, Seignior, no City, Town, Vil­lage or Villa; no Castle, River, Bridge, Lake, Spring or Mineral.

Are any, Sir, of those admirable Mineral Waters there, so frequent in our World?

In abundance, Sir, the Famous Garamanteen, a young Italian, Sir, lately come from thence, gives an ac­count of an excellent Scaturigo, that has lately made an Ebulation there, in great Reputation with the Lunary Ladies.

Indeed, Sir! be pleas'd, Seignior, to solve me some Queries that may enode some apparences of the Virtue of the Water you speak of.

Pox upon him, what Questions he asks—but I must on—Why Sir, you must know,—the Tincture of this Water upon Stagnation, Ceruberates, and the Crocus upon the Stones Flaveces; this he observes—to be, Sir, the Indication of a Generous Water.

Now, Sir, be pleas'd to observe the three Regions, if they be bright, without doubt Mars is powerful; if the middle Region or Camera be palled, Filia Solis is breeding.

And then the third Region, if the Faeces be vola­til, the Birth will soon come in Balneo. This I observed also in the Laboratory of that Ingenious Chymist Lysidono, and with much Pleasure animadverted that Mineral of the same Zenith and Nader, of that now so famous Water in England, near that famous Metropolis, call'd Islington.

For, Sir, upon the Infusion, the Crows Head im­mediately procures the Seal of Hermes, and had not Lac Virginis been too soon suck'd up, I believe we might have seen the Consummation of Amalgena.

But, Sir, this Garamanteen relates the strangest Operation of a Mineral in the Lunar World, that ever I heard of.

Why, Sir, a Water impregnated to a Circulation with Fema Materia; upon my Honour, Sir, the strongest I ever drank of.

The Lunary Physicians, Sir, call it Urinam Vulca­ni, it Calibrates every ones Excrements more or less ac­cording to the Gradus of the Natural Calor.—To my Knowledge, Sir, a Smith of a very fiery Constitution, is grown very Opulent by drinking these Waters.

How, Sir, grown Rich by drinking the Waters, and to your Knowledge?

The Devil's in my Tongue, to my Knowledge, Sir, for what a man of Honour relates, I may safely af­firm.

For, Sir, conceive me how he grew Rich, since he drank those Waters he never buys any Iron, but hammers it out of Stercus Proprius.

Ay, Sir, and if at any time Nature be too infirm, and he prove Costive, he has no more to do, but to apply a Load-stone ad Anum.

Most true, Sir, and that facilitates the Journey per Visera.—But I detain you, Sir, another time—Sir,—I will now only beg the Honour of a Word or two with the Governante, before I go.—.

Sir, she shall wait on you, and I shall be proud of the Honour of your Conversation.—

Ha—Who's this?—Hum—What if it shou'd be the Farmer that the Doctor has promis'd Mopsophil to? My Heart misgives me.

Who wou'd you speak with, Friend?

This is, perhaps, my Rival, the Apothecary.—Speak with, Sir, why, what's that to you?

It may be I have, it may be I have not. What then, Sir?—

Seignior Doctor tells me I have a Lover waits me, sure it must be the Farmer or the Apothecary. No matter which, so a Lover, that welcomest man alive. I am re­solv'd to take the first good Offer, tho' but in Revenge of Harlequin and Scaramouch, for puting Tricks upon me.—Ha,—Two of'em!

If both Lovers, you are both welcome, but let's have fair Play, and take your turns to speak.

I was inform'd there was a Person here had Pro­positions of Marriage to make me.

I know not what you mean by your Finis, Seig­nior, but I am come to offer my self this Gentlewomans Servant, her Lover, her Husband, her Dog in a Halter, or any thing.

Him I pronounce a Paltroon, and an Ignomini­ous Utensil, that dares lay claim to the Renowned Lady of my Primum Mobile; that is, my best Affections.—

I fear not your hard Words, Sir, but dare aloud pronounce, if Donna Mopsophil like me, the Farmer, as well as I like her, 'tis a Match, and my Chariot is ready at the Gate to bear her off, d'ye see.—

And I pronounce, that being intoxicated with the sweet Eyes of this refulgent Lady, I come to tender her my noblest Particulars, being already most advan­tageously set up with the circumstantial Implements of my Occupation.

A City Apothecary, a most Gentile Calling—Which shall I chuse?—Seignior Apothecary, I'll not expostulate the Circumstantial Reasons that have occasi­on'd me this Honour.—

Incomparable Lady, the Elegancy of your Re­pertees most excellently denote the Profundity of your Ca­pacity.

What the Devil's all this? Good Mr. Conjurer stand by—and don't fright the Gentlewoman with your Elegant Profondities.

How, a Conjurer! I will chastise thy vulgar Ig­norance, that yelips a Philosopher a Conjurer.

Losaphers!—Prethee, if thou be'st a Man, speak like a Man—then

What do you speak like—why you speak like a Wheel-Barrow.

Thats well Gentlemen, let's have all Peace, while I survey you both, and see which likes me best.

—ha,—now on my Conscience, my two foolish Lovers,—Harlequin and Scaramouch; how are my Hopes defeated?—but Faith I'll fit you both.

So, she's considering still, I shall be the happy Dog.

She's taking aim, she cannot chuse but like me best.

Faith Seignior, now I look better on you, I do not like your Phisnomy so well as your Intellects; you disco­vering some Circumstantial Symptoms that ever denote a Villainous Inconstancy.

You are mistaken, Seignior, I am displeas'd at your Gray Eyes, and Black Eye-brows and Beard, I never knew a Man with those Signs, true to his Mistriss or his Friend. And I wou'd sooner wed that Scoundrel Scara­mouch, that very civil Pimp, that meer pair of Chymical Bellows that blow the Doctors projecting Fires, that De­puty-Urinal Shaker, that very Guzman of Salamanca, than a Fellow of your infallible Signum Mallis.

Ha, ha, ha,—you have your Answer, Seigni­or Friskin—and may shut up your Shop and be gone.—Ha, ha, ha.—

Those Lanthorn Jaws of yours, with that most villainous Sneer and Grin, and a certain fierce Aire of your Eyes, looks altogether most Fanatically—which with your notorious Whey Beard, are certain Signs of Knavery and Cowardice; therefore I'd rather wed that Spider Harle­quin, that Sceliton Buffoon, that Ape of Man, that Jack of [Page 52] Lent, that very Top, that's of no use, but when 'tis whipt and lasht, that pitious Property I'd rather wed than thee.

you understand me—and so adieu sweet Glister­pipe, and Seignior dirty Boots, Ha, ha, ha.—

That I shou'd take this Fool for a Physician.

—How long have you commenc'd Apothecary, Seignior?

Ever since you turn'd Farmer.——Are not you a damn'd Rogue to put these Tricks upon me, and most dishonorably break all Articles between us?

And are not you a damn'd Son of a——some­thing—to break Articles with me?

No more Words, Sir, no more words, I find it must come to Action,—Draw.—

Let me go, Sir, I am provok'd beyond measure, Sir.

I dare not discover the Fool for his Masters Sake, and it may spoil our Intrigue anon; besides, he'll then discover me, and I shall be discarded for bantering the Doctor.

—A Man of Honour to be so basely affronted here.——

Shou'd I discover this Rascal, he wou'd tell the Old Gentleman I was the same that attempted his House [Page] to day in Womans Cloths, and I shou'd be kick'd and beaten most unsatiably.

What, Seignior, for a man of Parts to be impos'd upon,—and whipt through the Lungs here—like a Mountebanks Zany for sham Cures—Mr. Doctor, I must tell you 'tis not Civil.

I am extreamly sorry for it, Sir,—and you shall see how I will have this Fellow handled for the Af­front to a Person of your Gravity, and in my House—Here Pedro,—

—Take this Intruder, or bring some of your Fellows hither, and toss him in a Blanket—

Harkye,—bring me off, or I'll discover all your Intrigue.

I'll warrant you some Rogue that has some Plot on my Neece and Daughter.—

No, no, Sir, he comes to impose the grossest Lye upon you, that ever was heard of.

—That he's the greatest Impostor in Nature. Wou'd you think it, Sir? he pretends to be no less than an Ambassador from the Emperor of the Moon, Sir—

Ha,—Ambassador from the Emperor of the Moon—

Ay, Sir, thereupon I laugh'd, thereupon he grew angry,—I laugh'd at his Resentment, and thereupon we drew—and this was the high Quarrel, Sir.

I have brought you off, manage him as well as you can.

Brought me off, yes, out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire. Why, how the Devil shall I act an Ambas­sador?

It must be so, for how shou'd either of these know I expected that Honour?

Sir, if the Figure you make, approaching so near ours of this World, have made us commit any undecent Indignity to your high Character, you ought to pardon the Frailty of our Mortal Education and Ignorance, having never be­fore been blest with the Descention of any from your World.—

What the Devil shall I say now?

—I confess, I am as you see by my Garb, Sir, a little Incognito, because the Publick Message I bring, is very pri­vate—which is, that the mighty Iredonozor, Empe­ror of the Moon—with his most worthy Brother, the Prince of Thunderland, intend to Sup with you to Night—Therefore be sure you get good Wine.—Tho' by the way let me tell you, 'tis for the Sake of your Fair Daughter.

I'll leave the Rogue to his own Management.—I presume, by your whispering, Sir, you wou'd be private, and humbly beging Pardon, take my Leave.

You have it Friend. Does your Neece and Daugh­ter Drink, Sir?

According to their Quality, Sir, more or less; the greater the Quality, the more Profuse the Quantity.

Why that's just as 'tis here; but your Men of Qua­lity, your States-men, Sir, I presume they are Sober, Learned and Wise.

Faith, no, Sir, but they are, for the most part, what's as good, very Proud, and promising, Sir, most li­beral of their Word to every fauning Suiter, to purchase the state of long Attendance, and cringing as they pass; but the Devil of a Performance, without you get the Knack of bribing in the right Place and Time; but yet they all defy it, Sir.—

Just, just as 'tis here.

—But pray Sir, How do these Great Men live with their Wives.

Most Nobly, Sir, my Lord keeps his Coach, my Lady, hers; my Lord his Bed, my Lady hers; and very rarely see one another, unless they chance to meet in a Visit, in the Park, the Mall, the Toore, or at the Basset-Table, where they civilly Salute and part, he to his Mistriss, she to play.

—Where, if she chance to lose her Money, rather than give out, she borrows of the next Amorous Coxcomb, who, from that Minute, hopes, and is sure to be paid again one way or other, the next kind Oppor­tunity.

As for the young Fellows that have Money, they have no Mercy upon their own Persons, but wearing Na­ture off as fast as they can, Swear, and Whore and Drink, and Borrow as long any Rooking Citizen will lend, till having dearly purchased the Heroick Title of a Bully or a Sharper, they live pity'd of their Friends, and despis'd by their Whores, and depart this Transitory World, diverse and sundry ways.

As for the Citizen, Sir, the Courtier lies with his Wife, he, in revenge, cheats him of his Estate, till Rich enough to marry his Daughter to a Courtier, again give him all—unless his Wives Over-Gallantry break him; and thus the World runs round.——

The very same 'tis here.—Is there no pre­serment, Sir, for Men of Parts and Merit?

Parts and Merit! What's that? a Livery, or the handsome tying a Cravat, for the great Men prefer none but their Foot-men and Vallets.

By my Troth, just as 'tis here.

—Sir, I find you are a Person of most profound Intelli­gence—under Favour, Sir,—Are you a Native of the Moon or this World.—

—A plaguy inquisitive old Fool—

—Why, Sir,—Pox on't, what shall I say?—I being—one day in a musing Melancholy, walking by the Sea-side—there arose, Sir, a great Mist, by the Suns exhaling of the Vapours of the Earth, Sir.

The Exalations of the Sun, draw you to the Moon, Sir?

I am condemn'd to the Blanket again.—I say, Sir, I was exhal'd up, but in my way—being too heavy, was dropt into the Sea.

The Sea, Sir, where the Emperors Fisher-man casting his Nets, drew me up, and took me for a strange and monstrous Fish, Sir,—and as such, presented me to his Mightiness,—who going to have me Spitchcock'd for his own eating.—

What did me I, Sir, (Life being sweet) but fall on my Knees, and besought his Gloriousness not to eat me, for I was no Fish but a Man; he ask'd me of what Country, I told him of Naples; whereupon the Emperor overjoy'd ask'd me if I knew that most Reverend and most Learned Doctor Baliardo, and his fair Daughter. I told him I did: whereupon he made me his Bed-fellow, and the Confident to his Amour to Seigniora Elaria.

Bless me, Sir! how came the Emperor to know my Daughter?

—There he is again with his damn'd hard Que­stions.—Knew her, Sir,—Why—you were walk­ing abroad one day.—

My Daughter never goes abroad, Sir, farther than our Garden.—

Ay, there it was indeed, Sir,—and as his High­ness was taking a Survey of this lower World—through a long Perspective, Sir,—he saw you and your Daugh­ter and Neece, and from that very moment, fell most de­sperately in Love.—But hark—the sound of Tim­brils, Kettle-Drums and Trumpets.—The Emperor, Sir, is on his Way,—prepare for his Reception.

I'm in a Rapture—How shall I pay my Gra­titude for this great Negotiation?—but as I may, I humbly offer, Sir.—

Sir, as an Honour done the Emperor, I take your Ring and Gold. I must go meet his Highness.—

Oh, Sir! we are astonish'd with the dreadful sound of the sweetest Musick that ever Mortal heard, but know not whence it comes. Have you not heard it, Sir?

Heard it, yes, Fool,—'Tis the Musick of the Spheres, the Emperor of the Moon World is descending.

How, Sir, no marvel then, that looking towards the South, I saw such splendid Glories in the Air.

Oh, yes, Sir, Wonders! haste to the old Gallery, whence, with the help of your Telescope, you may disco­ver all.—

I wou'd not lose a moment for the lower Universe.

Sir, we are dress'd as you commanded us, What is your farther Pleasure?

—It well becomes the Honour you're design'd for, this Night to wed two Princes—come with me and know your happy Fates.

Bless me! My Father, in all the rest of his Dis­course, shows so much Sense and Reason, I cannot think him mad, but feigns all this to try us.

Not Mad! Marry Heaven forbid, thou art al­ways creating Fears to startle one; why, if he be not mad, his want of Sleep this eight and forty hours, the Noise of strange unheard of Instruments, with the Fantastick Splen­dor of the unusual Sight, will so turn his Brain and dazle him, that in Grace of Goodness, he may be Mad: If he be not;—come, let's after him to the Gallery, for I long to see in what showing Equipage our Princely Lovers will address to us.

SCENE The Last. The Gallery richly adorn'd with Scenes and Lights.

HA—Heavens! what's here?—what Palace is this?—No part of our House, I'm sure.—

I'm all amazement too, but must not show my Ignorance.—Yes, Elaria, this is prepar'd to entertain two Princes.

Are you sure on't, Sir? are we not, think you, in that World above, I often heard you speak of? in the Moon, Sir?

Let not thy Female Ignorance prophane the high­est Mysteries of Natural Philosophy: To Fools it seems Inchantment—but I've a Sense can reach it,—sit and expect the Event.—Hark—I am amaz'd, but must conceal my Wonder—that Joy of Fools—and appear wise in Gravity.

Methought I saw the Figure of two Men descend from yonder Cloud, on yonder Hill.

I thought so too, but they are disappear'd, and the wing'd Chariot's fled.

Most Reverend Sir, we, from the upper World, thus low salute you.—Keplair and Gallileus we are call'd, sent as Interpreters to Great Iredonozor, the Empe­ror of the Moon, who is descending.

Most Reverend Bards—profound Philoso­phers—thus low I bow to pay my humble Gratitude.

The Emperor, Sir, salutes you, and your fair Daughter.

And, Sir, the Prince of Thunderland salutes you, and your fair Neece.

Came you, most Reverend Bards, from the Moon World?

By Cloud, Sir, through the Regions of the Air, down to the fam'd Parnassus; thence by Water, along the River Helicon, the rest by Post, upon two wing'd Eagles.

Sir, are there store of our World inhabiting the Moon?

Oh, of all Nations, Sir, that lie beneath it in the Emperors Train! Sir, you will behold abundance; look up and see the Orbal World descending; observe the Zo­diack, Sir, with her twelve Signs.

—See how she turns, and sends her Signs to Earth.—Behold the Ram—Aries—see Taurus next descends; then Gemini—see how the Boys embrace—Next Cancer, then Leo, then the Virgin; next to her Libra—Scorpio, Sagittary, Capricorn, Aquarius,—Pisces. This eight thousand years no Emperor has descended, but In­cognito, but when he does, to make his Journey more Magnificent, the Zodiack, Sir, attends him.

Now, Sir, behold, the Globick World descends two thousand Leagues below its wonted Station, to show Obe­dience to its proper Monarch.

[Page 64] —See, Sir, the Cloud of Foreigners appears, French, English, Spaniards, Danes, Turks, Russians, Indians, and the nearer Climes of Christendom; and lastly, Sir, behold the mighty Emperor.—

The Emperor wou'd have you rise, Sir, he will expect no Ceremony from the Father of his Mistriss.

I cannot, Sir, behold his Mightiness—the Splendor of his Majesty confounds me—

Shall I not have the Joy to hear their Heavenly Voices, Sir?

They never speak to any Subject, Sir, when they appear in Royalty, but by Interpreters, and that by way of Stentraphon, in manner of the Delphick Oracles.

Any way, so I may hear the Sence of what they wou'd say.

No doubt you will—But see the Emperor commands by signs his Foreigners to dance—

Most Learned Sir, the Emperor now is going to declare himself, according to his Custom, to his Subjects. Listen.—

Stay mighty Emperor, and vouchsafe to be the Umpire of our Difference.

Bless us!—my two precious Lovers, I'll war­rant; well, I had better take up with one of them, than lye alone to Night.

Receive your Mistriss, Sir, as the Reward of your undoubted Valour—

Your humble Servant, Sir, and Scaramouch, re­turns you humble Thanks.—

Ha,—Scaramouch—

My Heart misgives me—Oh, I am undone and cheated every way.—

Burn all my Books, and let my Study Blaze,

Burn all to Ashes, and be sure the Wind

Scatter the vile Contagious Monstrous Leys.

—Most Noble Youths—you've honour'd me with your Alliance, and you, and all your Friends, Assistances in this Glorious Miracle, I invite to Night to revel with me.—Come all and see my happy Recantation of all the Follies Fables have inspir'd till now. Be pleasant to repeat your Story, to tell me by what kind degrees you Cozen'd me—

I see there's nothing in Philosophy—

Of all that writ, he was the wisest Bard, who spoke this mighty Truth.— He that knew all that ever Learning writ, Knew only this—that he knew nothing yet.