EMPEROR OF THE MOON: A FARCE.  
As it is Acted by Their Majesty's Servants, AT THE QUEENS THEATRE.  
Written by Mrs. A. Behn.  
LONDON: Printed by R. Holt, for Joseph Knight, and Francis Saunders, at the Blue-anchor in the lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1687.   

TO THE Lord Marquess OF WORCESTER, etc.  
MY LORD,  
IT is a common Notion, that gathers as it goes, and is almost become a vulgar Error, That Dedications in our Age, are only the effects of Flattery, a form of Compliment, and no more; so that the Great, to whom they are only due, decline those Noble Patronages that were so generally allowed the Ancient Poets; since the Awful Custom has been so scandalised by mistaken Addresses, and many a worthy Piece is lost for want of some Honourable Protection, and sometimes many indifferent ones traverse the World with that advantageous Passport only.  
This humble Offering, which I presume to lay at your Lordship's Feet, is of that Critical Nature, that it does not only require the Patronage of a great Title, but of a great Man too, and there is often times a vast difference between those two great Things; and amongst all the most Elevated, there are but very few in whom an illustrious Birth and equal Parts complete the Hero; but among those, your Lordship bears the first Rank, from a just Claim, both of the Glories of your Race and Virtues. Nor need we look back into long past Ages, to bring down to ours the Magnanimous deeds of your Ancestors: We need no more than to behold (what we have so often done with wonder) those of the Great Duke of Beauford, your Illustrious Father, whose every single Action is a glorious and lasting Precedent to all the future Great; whose unshaken Loyalty, and all other eminent Virtues, have rendered him to us, something more than Man, and which alone, deserving a whole Volume, would be here but to lessen his Fame, to mix his Grandeurs with those of any other; and while I am addressing to the Son, who is only worthy of that Noble Blood he boasts, and who gives the World a Prospect of those coming Gallantries that will Equal those of his Glorious Father; already, My Lord, all you say and do is admired, and every touch of your Pen reverenced; the Excellency and Quickness of your Wit, is the Subject that fits the World most agreeably. For my own part, I never presume to contemplate your Lordship, but my Soul bows with a perfect Veneration to your mighty Mind; and while I have adored the delicate Effects of your uncommon Wit, I have wished for nothing more than an Opportunity of expressing my infinite Sense of it; and this Ambition, my Lord, was one Motive of my present Presumption in the Dedicating this Farce to your Lordship.  
I am sensible, my Lord, how far the Word Farce might have offended some, whose Titles of Honour, a Knack in dressing, or his Art in writing a Billet Deux, had been his chiefest Talon, and who, without considering the Intent, Character, or Nature of the thing, would have cried out upon the Language, and have damned it (because the Persons in it did not all talk like Hero's) as too debased and vulgar to entertain a Man of Quality; but I am secure from this Censure, when your Lordship shall be its Judge, whose refined Sense, and Delicacy of Judgement, will, thro' all the humble Actions and trivialness of Business, find Nature there, and that Diversion which was not meant for the Numbers, who comprehend nothing beyond the Show and Buffoonry.  
A very barren and thin hint of the Plot I had from the Italian, and which, even as it was, was acted in France eighty odd times without intermission. 'Tis now much altered, and adapted to our English Theatre and Genius, who cannot find an Entertainment at so cheap a Rate as the French will, who are content with almost any Incoherences, howsoever shuffled together under the Name of a Farce; which I have endeavoured as much as the thing would bear, to bring within the compass of Possibility and Nature, that I might as little impose upon the Audience as I could; all the Words are wholly new, without one from the Original. 'Twas calculated for His late Majesty of Sacred Memory, that Great Patron of Noble Poetry, and the Stage, for whom the Muses must for ever mourn, and whose Loss, only the Blessing of so Illustrious a Successor can ever repair; and 'tis a great Pity to see that best and most useful Diversion of Mankind, whose Magnificence of old, was the most certain sign of a flourishing State, now quite undone by the Misapprehension of the-Ignorant, and Mis-representings of the Envious, which evidently shows the World is improved in nothing but Pride Ill Nature, and affected Nicety; and the only Diversion of the Town now, is high Dispute, and public Controversies in Taverns, Coffeehouses, etc. and those things which ought to be the greatest Mysteries in Religion, and so rarely the Business of Discourse, are turned into Ridicule, and look but like so many fanatical Stratagems to ruin the Pulpit as well as the Stage. The Defence of the first is left to the Reverend Gown, but the departing Stage can be no otherwise restored, but by some leading Spirits, so Generous, so Public, and so Indefatigable as that of your Lordship, whose Patronages are sufficient to support it, whose Wit and Judgement to defend it, and whose Goodness and Quality to justify it; such Encouragement would inspire the Poets with new Arts to please, and the Actors with Industry, 'Twas this that occasioned so many Admirable Plays heretofore, as Shakespeare's, Fletcher's, and Johnson's, and 'twas this alone that made the Town able to keep so many Playhouses alive, who now cannot supply one. However, my Lord, I, for my part, will no longer complain, if this Piece find but favour in your Lordship's Eyes, and that it can be so happy to give your Lordship one hours Diversion, which is the only Honour and Fame is wished to crown all the Endeavours of,  
My Lord, Your Lordship's Most Humble, and Most Obedient Servant, A. Behn.   

PROLOGUE  Spoken by Mr. Jevern. 

LOng, and at vast Expense the industrious Stage  
Has striven to please a dull ungrateful Age:  
With Hero's and with Gods we first began,  
And thundered to you in Heroic Strain.  
Some dying Love-sick Queen each Night you enjoyed,  
And with Magnificence, at last were cloyed:  
Our Drums and Trumpets frighted all the Women;  
Our fighting scared the Beaux and Billet Deux Men.  
So Spark in an Intrigue of Quality,  
Grows weary of his splendid Drudgery;  
Hates the Fatigue, and cries a Pox upon her,  
What a damned bustles here with Love and Honour.   

In humbler Comedy, we next appear,  
No Fop or Cuckold, but slap-dash we had him here;  
We showed you all, but you malicious grown,  
Friends Vices to expose, and hide your own;  
Cry, Damn it— This is such, or such a one.  
Yet nettled, Plague, What does the Scribbler mean?  
With his damned Characters, and Plot obscene.  
No Woman without Vizard in the Nation,  
Can see it twice, and keep her Reputation— that's certain  
Forgetting—  
That he himself, in every gross Lampoon,  
Her lewder Secrets spread about the Town;  
Whilst their feigned Niceness is but cautious Fear,  
Their own Intrigues should be unravelled here.   

Our next Recourse was dwindling down to Farce,  
Then— Zounds, what Stuff's here? 'tis all o'er my—  
Well, Gentlemen, since none of these has sped,  
'Gad, we have bought a share i'th' speaking Head.  
So there you'll save a Sice,  
You love Good Husbandry in all but Vice;  
Whoring and Drinking, only bears a Price.   The Head rises upon a twisted Post, on a Bench from under the Stage. After Jevern speaks to its 〈◊〉 Stentor 
Oh!— Oh!— Oh!  
Oh!— Oh!— Oh!  After this it sings Sawny, Laughs, cries God bless the King in order. Stentor Answers. 
Speak louder Jevern, if you'd have me repeat;  
Plague of this Rogue, he will betray the Cheat.  He speaks louder, it answers indirectly. 
— Hum— There 'tis again,  
Pox of your Echo with a Northern Strain.  
Well,—— This will be but a nine days wonder too;  
There's nothing lasting but the Puppets Show.  
What Ladies heart so hard, but it would move,  
To hear Philander and Irene's Love.  
Those Sisters too, the scandalous Wits do say.  
Two nameless, keeping Beaux, have made so gay;  
But those Amours are perfect Sympathy,  
Their Gallants being as mere Machine's as they.  
Oh! how the City Wife, with her noun Ninnie,  
Is charmed with, Come into my Coach— Mistress Jinny, Mistress Jinny.  
But overturning— Frible cries— Adznigs,  
The jogling Rogue has murdered all his Kids.  
The Men of War cry Pox on't, this is dull,  
We are for rough Sports,— Dog Hector, and the Bull.  
Thus each in his degree, Diversion finds,  
Your Sports are suited to your mighty Minds;  
Whilst so much Judgement in your Choice you show,  
The Puppets have more Sense than some of you.   

Persons Names.  

DOctor Baliardo. Mr. Underhill.  
Scaramouch, his Man. Mr. Lee.  
Pedro, his Boy.  
Don Cinthio, Don Charmante, both Nephews to the Viceroy, and Lovers of Elaria and Bellemante. Young Mr. Powel. Mr. Mumford.  
Harlequin, Cinthio's Man. Mr. Jevern.  
Officer and Clark.  
Elaria, Daughter to the Doctor. Mrs. Cook.  
Bellemante, Niece to the Doctor. Mrs. Mumford.  
Mopsophil Governante to the young Ladies. Mrs. Cory.  
The Persons in the Moon, are Don Cinthio, Emperor; Don Charmante, Prince of Thunderland.  
Their Attendants, Persons that represent the Court Cards.  
Keeplair and Gallileus, two Philosophers.  
Twelve Persons representing the Figures of the twelve Signs of the Zodiac.  
Negroes, and Persons that Dance.  
Masick, Kettledrums, and Trumpets.   
The SCENE, NAPLES.   

FARCE.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I. A Chamber.  Enter Elaria and Mopsophil. 

I.  
A Curse upon that faithless Maid,  
Who first her Sexes, Liberty betrayed;  
Born free as Man to Love and Range,  
Till Nobler Nature did to Custom change.  
Custom, that dull excuse for Fools,  
Who think all Virtue to consist in Rules.   

II.  
From Love our Fetters never sprung,  
That smiling God, all wanton Gay and Tongue,  
Shows by his Wings he cannot be  
Confined to a restless Slavery;  
But here and there at random roves,  
Not fixed to glittering Courts or shady Groves.   

III.  
Than she that Constancy Professed,  
Was but a well dissembler at the best;  
And that imaginary sway  
She feigned to give, in seeming to obey,  
Was but the height of Prudent Art,  
To deal with greater Liberty her Heart.   [After the Song Elaria gives her Lute to Mopsophil. Ela. 
This does not divert me:  
Nor nothing will, till Scaramouch return,  
And bring me News of Cinthio.  Mop. 
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.  Ela. 
Cinthio came with Music last Night under my Window, which my Father hearing sallied out with his Myrmidons 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.  Mopas: 
And see Madam where you trusty Roger comes.  Enter Scaramouch peeping on all sides before he enters. 
— You may advance, and fear none but your Friends.  Scar. 
Away and keep the door.  Ela. 
Oh dear Scaramouch! hast thou been at the Vice-Roys!  Scar. 
Yes, yes.—  [In heat, Ela. 
And hast thou delivered my Letter, to his Nephew,  
Don Cinthio?  Scar. 
Yes, Yes, what should I deliver else?  Ela. 
Well— and how does he?  [Fanning himself with his Cap. Scar. 
Lord, how should he do? Why, what a Laborious thing it is to be a Pimp?  Ela. 
Why, well he should do.  Scar. 
So he is, as well as a Night adventuring Lover can be,—— he has got but one wound, Madam.  Ela. 
How! wounded say you? Oh Heavens! 'Tis not Mortal?  Scar. 
Why, I have no great skill,— but they say it may be Dangerous.  Ela. 
I die with fear, where is he wounded?  Scar. 
Why, Madam, he is run— quit through the— heart,— but the Man may Live, if I please.  Ela. 
Thou please! Torment me not with Riddles.  Scar. 
Why, Madam, there is a certain cordial Balsam, called a fair Lady, which outwardly applied to his Bosom, will prove a better cure than all your Weapon or sympathetic Powder, meaning your Ladyship.  Ela. 
Is Cinthio than not wounded?  Scar. 
No otherwise than by your fair Eyes, Madam; he got away unseen and unknown.  Ela. 
Dost know how precious time is, and dost thou Fool it away thus? what said he to my Letter?  Scar. 
What should he say?  Ela. 
Why a hundred dear soft things of Love, kiss it as often, and bless me for my goodness.  Scar. 
Why so he did.  Ela. 
Ask thee a thousand question of my health after my last nights fright.  Scar. 
So he did.  Ela. 
Expressing all the kind concern Love could inspire, for the punishment my Father has inflicted on me, for entertaining him at my Window last Night.  Scar. 
All this he did.  Ela. 
And for my being confined a Prisoner to my Apartment, without the hope or almost possibility of seeing him any more.  Scar. 
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 Father's consent too; Such a Plot, Madam.  Ela. 
Ay that would be worthy of thy Brain; prithee what—  Scar. 
Such a device.  Ela. 
I'm impatient.  Scar. 
Such a Canundrum,— well if there be wise Men and Conjurers in the World, they are intriguing Lovers.  Ela. 
Out with it.  Scar. 
You must know, Madam, your Father, (my Master, the Doctor,) is a little Whimsical, Romantic, or Don Quick-sottish, or so.—  Ela. 
Or rather Mad.  Scar. 
That were uncivil to be supposed by me; but Lunatic we may call him without breaking the Decorum of good Manners; for he is always travelling to the Moon.  Ela. 
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 Machiavelli there.  Scar. 
How came he thus infected first?  Ela. 
With reading foolish Books, Lucian's Dialogue of the Lofty Traveller, who flew up to the Moon, and thence to Heaven; an Heroic business called, The Man in the Moon, if you'll believe a Spaniard, who was carried thither, 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.  Scar. 
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.  Ela. 
A Farce.—  Scar. 
Ay a Farce, which shall be called,— the World in the Moon. Wherein your Father shall be so imposed on, as shall bring matters most magnificently about.—  Ela. 
I cannot conceive thee, but the design must be good since Cinthio and Charmante own it.  Scar. 
In order to this, Charmante is dressing himself like one of the cabalists of the Rosacrusian Order, and is coming to prepare my credulous Master for the greater imposition. I have his trinkets here to play upon him, which shall be ready.  Ela. 
But the Farce, where is It to be Acted?  Scar. 
Here, here, in this very House; I am to order the Decoration, adorn a Stage, and place Scenes proper.  Ela. 
How can this be done without my Father's knowledge?  Scar. 
You know the old Apartment next the great Orchard, and the Wormeaten 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.  Enter Mopsa running. Mopsa. 
Run, Run Scaramouch, my Masters Conjuring for you like Mad below, he calls up all his little Devils with horrid Names, his Microscope, his Horoscope, his Telescope, and all his Scopes.  Scar. 
Here, here,— I had almost forgot the Letters; here's one for you, and one for Mrs. Bellemante.  [runs out. Enter Bellemante with a Book. Bell. 
Here, take my Prayer Book, Oh Matres cheer.  [Embraces her. Ela. 
Thy Eyes are always laughing, Bellemante.  Bel. 
And so would yours had they been so well employed as mine, this Morning. I have been at the Chapel; and seen so many Beaus, such a Number of Plumeys, I could not tell which I should look on most, sometimes my heart was charmed with the gay Blonding, then with the Melancholy Noire, anon the amiable brunet, sometimes the bashful, then again the bold; the little now, anon the lovely tall! In fine, my Dear, I was embarassed on all sides, I did nothing but ideal my heart tout au toore.  Ela. 
Oh there was then no danger, Cousin.  Bel. 
No but abundance of Pleasure.  Ela. 
Why, this is better than sighing for Charmante.  Bel. 
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.  Ela. 
Oh you had great Devotion to Heaven then!  Bel. 
And so I had; for I did nothing but admire its handy work, but I could not have prayed heartily if I had been dying; but a deuce on't, who should come in and spoil all but my Lover Charmante, so dressed, so Gallant, that he drew together all the scattered fragments of my heart, confined my wandering thoughts, and fixed 'em all on him; Oh how he looked, how he was dressed!  

Sings.  
Chivalier, a Chevave Blond,  
Plus de Mouche, Plus de Powdre  
Pleus de Ribons et Cannous.   
— Oh what a dear ravishing thing is the beginning of an Amour?  Ela. 
Thou'rt still in Tune, when wilt thou be tame, Bellemante?  Bel. 
When I am weary of loving, Elaria.  Ela. 
To keep up your Humour, here's a Letter from your Charmante.  Bel. reads. 
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 toil 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.  
— Live then Charmante! Live, as long as Love can last!  Ela. 
Well, Cousin, Scaramouch tells me of a rare design's a hatching, to relieve us from this Captivity; here are we mewed up to be espoused to two Moon-calfs for aught I know; for the Devil of any Human thing is suffered to come near us, without our Governante and Keeper, Mr. Scaramouch.  Bel. 
Who, if he had no more Honesty, and Conscience, than my Uncle, would let us pine for want of Lovers; but thanks be praised the Generosity of our Cavaliers has opened 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.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II. A Garden.  Enter Doctor, with all manner of Mathematical Instruments, hanging at his Girdle; Scaramouch bearing a Telescope twenty (or more) Foot long. Doct. 
SET down the Telescope.— Let me see, what Hour is it?  Sca. 
About six a Clock, Sir.  Doct. 
Then 'tis about the Hour, that the great Monarch of the upper World enters into his Closet; Mount, mount the Telescope.  Scar. 
What to do, Sir?  Doct. 
I understand, at certain moments Critical, one may be snatched of such a mighty consequence to let the sight into the secret Closet.  Scar. 
How, Sir, Peep into the King's Closet; under favour, Sir, that will be something uncivil.  Doct. 
Uncivil, it were slat Trenson if it should be known, but thus unseen, and as wise Politicians should, I take Survey of all: This is the Statesman's peeping-hole, thorough which he Steals the secrets of his King, and seems to wink at distance.  Scar. 
The very keyhole, Sir, thorough which with half an Eye, he sees him even at his Devotion, Sir.  ['a knocking at the Garden Gate. Doct. 
Take care none enter—  [Scar. goes to the Door. Scar. 
Oh, Sir, Sir, here's some strange great Man come to wait on you.  Doct. 
Great Man! from whence?  Scar. 
Nay, from the Moon World, for aught I know, for he looks not like the People of the lower Orb.  Doct. 
Ha! and that may be: wait on him in.  [Ex. Scar. Enter Scaramouch bare, bowing before Charmante, dressed in a strange Fantastical Habit, with Harliquin Salutes the Doctor. Char. 
Doctor Baliardo, most learned Sir, all Hail; Hail from the great Caballa— of Utopia.  Doct. 
Most Reverend Bard, thrice welcome.  [Salutes him low. Char. 
The Fame of your great Learning, Sir, and Virtue, is known with Joy to the renowned Society.  Doct. 
Fame, Sir, has done me too much Honour, to bear my Name to the renowned Caballa.  Char. 
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.  Doct. 
I must confess the Count of Gabalist, renders it plain, from Writ Divine and Humane, there are such friendly and intleligent Daemons.  Char. 
I hope you do not doubt that Doctrine, Sir, which holds that the Four Elements are Peopled 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 Fairies. Those of the Air are Silfs. These, Sir, when in Conjunction with Mortals, beget Immortal Races. Such as the first born man, which had continued so, had the first Man ne'er doted on a Woman.  Doct. 
I am of that opinion, Sir, Man was not made for Woman.  Char. 
Most certain, Sir, Man was to have been Immortallized by the Love and Conversation of these Charming Silfs and Nymphs, and Woman by the Gnomes and Salamanders, and to have stocked the World with Demy Gods, such as at this Day inhabit the Empire of the Moon.  Doct. 
Most admirable Philosophy and Reason.— But do these Silfs and Nymphs appear in shapes?  Char. 
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 blessed with their Divine Addresses. Were you but once admitted to that Society.—  Doct. 
Ay, Sir, what Virtues or what Merits can accomplish me for that ' great Honour?  Char. 
An absolute abstinence from carnal thought, devout and pure of Spirit; free from Sin.  Doct. 
I dare not boast my Virtues, Sir; Is there no way to try my Purity?  Char. 
Are you very secret.  Doct. 
'Tis my first Principle, Sir—  Char. 
And one, the most material in our Rosocrusian order.  Char. 
Please you to make a Trial.  Doct. 
As how, Sir, I beseech you?—  Char. 
If you be throughly purged 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.  Doct. 
Sir, you oblige profoundly.  Char. 
Kneel then, and try your strength of Virtue, Sir.  
— Keep your Eye fixed and open.  [He looks in the Telescope. [While he is looking, Charmante goes to the Door to Scaramouch, who waited on purpose without, and takes a Glass with a Picture of a Nympho on it, and a light behind it; that as he brings it, it shows to the Audience. Goes to the end of the Telescope. 
— Can you discern, Sir?  Doct. 
Methinks I see a kind of Glorious Cloud drawn up— and now— 'tis gone again.  Char. 
Saw you no fuger?  Doct. 
None.  Char. 
Then make a short Prayer to Alikin, the Spirit of the East; shake off all Earthly thoughts, and look again.  [He prays. Charmante puts the Glass into the Mouth of the Telescope. Doct. 
— Astonished, Ravished with delight, I see a Beauty young and Angel like, leaning upon a Cloud—  Char. 
Seems she on a Bed, then she's reposing, and you must not gaze—  Doct. 
Now a Cloud Veils her from me.  Char. 
She saw you peeping then, and drew the Curtain of the Air between.  Doct. 
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?  Char. 
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 would not make King Philip Jealous, and that famous Philosopher Merlin, was begotten on a Vestal Nun, a certain King's Daughter, by a most beautiful young Salamander; as indeed all the Heroes, and men of mighty minds are.  Doct. 
Most excellent!  Char. 
The Nymph Egeria enamoured 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 called their Daemon or Devil. But you are wise, Sir.—  Doct. 
But do you imagine Sir, they will fall in Love with an old Mortal?  Char. 
They love not like the Vulgar, 'tis the Immortal Part they dote upon.  Doct. 
But Sir, I have a Niece and Daughter which I love equally, were it not possible they might be Immortallized?  Char. 
No doubt on't Sir, if they be Pure and Chast.  Doct. 
I think they are, and I'll take care to keep 'em so; for I confess Sir, I would fain have a Hero to my Grandson.  Char. 
You never saw the Emperor of the Moon, Sir, the mighty Iredonozar?  Doct. 
Never Sir; his Court I have, but 'twas confusedly too.  Char. 
Refine your Thoughts Sir, by a moments Pray, and try again.  [He prays. Char. claps the Glass with the Emperor on it, he looks in and sees it. Doct. 
It is too much, too much for mortal Eyes! I see a Monarch seated on a Throne— But seems most sad and pensive.  Char. 
Forbear then Sir, for now his Love-Fit's on, and then he would be private.  Doct. 
His Love-Fit, Sir!  Char. 
Ay Sir, the Emperor's in Love with some fair Mortal.  Doct. 
And can he not command her?  Char. 
Yes, but her Quality being too mean, he struggles, tho' a King 'twixt Love and Honour.  Doct. 
It were too much to know the Mortal, Sir?  Char. 
'Tis yet unknown, Sir, to the cabalists, 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 tried your Virtue, tell you Wonders.  Doct. 
I humbly kiss your Hands, most Learned Sir.  [Charmante goes out. Doctor waits on him to the Door, and returns, to him Scaramouch. All this while Harlequin was hid in the Hedges, peeping now and then, and when his Master went out he was left behind. Sca. 
So, so, Don Charmante has played his Part most exquisitely; I'll in and see how it works in his Pericranium.— Did you call Sir?  Doct. 
Scaramouch, I have, for thy singular Wit and Honesty, always had a Tenderness for thee above that of a Master to a Servant.  Sca. 
I must confess it, Sir.  Doct. 
Thou hast Virtue and Merit that deserves much.  Sca. 
Oh Lord, Sir!  Doct. 
And I may make thee great,— all I require, is, that thou wilt double thy diligent Care of my Daughter and my Niece, for there are mighty things designed for them, if we can keep 'em from the sight of Man.  Sca. 
The sight of Man, Sir!  Doct. 
Ay, and the very Thoughts of Man.  Sca. 
What Antidote is there to be given to a young Wench, against the Disease of Love and Longing?  Doct. 
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.  Sca. 
Doubt me not, Sir, and I hope your Reverence will reward my faithful Service with Mopsophil, your Daughter's Governante, who is Rich, and has long had my Affection, Sir.  [Harlequ. Peeping, cries— Oh Traitor! Doct. 
Set not thy Heart on Transitories mortal, there's better things in store— besides, I have promised her to a Farmer for his Son.— Come in with me, and bring the Telescope.  [Ex. Doctor and Scaramouch. [Harlequin comes out on the Stage. Har. 
My Mistress Mopsophil to marry a Farmer's Son!  
What, am I then forsaken, abandoned by the false fain One?  
— If I have Honour, I must die with Rage;  
Reproaching gently, and complaining madly.  
— It is resolved, I'll hang myself— No,— When did I ever hear of a Hero that hanged himself? no— 'tis the Death of Rogues. What If I drown myself?—  
No,— Useless Dogs and Puppies are drowned; a Pistol or a Caper on my own Sword would look more nobly, but that I have a natural Aversion to Pain. Besides, it is as Vulgar as Ratsbane, 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 Ancient or Modern, of a Man that laughed to death.— I am very Ticklish, and am resolved— to die that Death.— Oh Mopsophil, my cruel Mopsophil!  [Pulls off his Hat, Sword and Shoes. 
— And now, farewell the World, fond Love, and mortal Cares.  [He falls to tickle himself, his Head, his Ears, his Armpits, Hands, Sides, and Soles of his Feet; making ridiculous Cries and Noises of Laughing several ways, with Antic Leaps and Skips, at last falls down as dead. Enter Scaramouch. Sca. 
Harlequin was left in the Garden, I'll tell him the News of Mopsophil.  [Going forward, tumbles over him. 
Ha, what's here? Harlequin Dead!—  [Heaving him up, he flies into a Rage. Har. 
Who is't that thus would rob me of my Honour?  Sca. 
Honour, why I thought thou'dst been dead.  Har. 
Why so I was, and the most agreeably dead.—  Sca. 
I came to bemoan with thee, the mutual loss of our Mistress.  Har. 
I know it Sir, I know it, and that thou'rt as false as she: Was't not a Covenant between us, that neither should take advantage of the other, but both should 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.  Sca. 
What, and spoil all my clothes? 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—  Har. 
— Prayers! I never heard of a dying Hero that ever prayed.  Sca. 
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.  Har. 
The Atchievment's great and new; but now I think on't, I'm resolved to hear my Sentence from the Mouth of the perfidious Trollop, for yet I cannot credit it.  
I'll to the Gipsy, tho' I venture banging,  
To be undeceived, 'tis hardly worth the hanging.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II: The Chamber of Bellemante.  Enter Scaramouch groping. Sca. 
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 myself in some Corner till she come.  [Goes on to the further side of the Stage. Enter Harlequin groping. Har. 
So, I made my Rival believe I was gone, and hid myself, till I got this Opportunity to steal to Mopsophil's Apartment, which must be hereabouts, for from these Windows she used to entertain my Love.  [Advances. Sca. 
Ha, I hear a soft Tread,— if it were Mopsophil's, she would not come by Dark.  [Har. advancing runs against a Table, and almost strikes himself backwards. Har. 
What was that?— a Table,— There I may obscure myself.—  [Groping for the Table. 
— What a Devil, is it vanished?  Sca. 
Devil,— Vanished,— What can this mean? 'Tis a Man's Voice.— If it should be my Master the Doctor, now I were a dead Man;— he can't see me,— and I'll put myself into such a Posture, that if he feel me, he shall as soon take me for a Church Spout as a Man.  [He puts himself into a Posture ridiculous, his Arms a-kimbo, his Knees wide open, his Backside almost touching the Ground, his Mouth stretched wide, and his Eyes stairing. Harl. groping, thrusts his Hand into his Mouth, he bites him, the other dares not cry out. Har. 
Ha, what's this? all Mouth, with twenty Rows of Teeth.— Now dare not I cry out, lest the Doctor should come, find me here, and kill me.— I'll try if it be mortal.—  [Making damnable Faces and Signs of Pain, he draws a Dagger. Scar. feels the Point of it, and shrinks back, letting go his Hand. Scar. 
Who the Devil can this be? I felt a Poniard, and am glad I saved my Skin from pinking.  [Steals out. [Harlequin groping about, finds the Table, on which there is a Carpet, and creeps under it, listening. Enter Bellemante, with a Candle in one Hand, and a Book in the other. Bel. 
I am in a Belle Humour for Poetry to Night,— I'll make some Boremes on Love.  [She Writes and Studies. 
Out of a great Curiosity,— A Shepherd did demand of me.— No, no,— A Shepherd this implored of me.—  [Scratches out, and Writes a new. 
Ay, ay, so it shall go.— Tell me, said he,— Can you Resign?— Resign, ay,— what shall Rhyme to Resign?— Tell me, said he,—  [She lays down the Tablets, and walks about. [Harlequin peeps from under the Table, takes the Book, writes in it, and lays it up before she can turn. [Reads.] 
Ay, Ay,— So it shall be,— Tell me, said he, my Bellemante;— Will you be kind to your Charmante?  [Reads those two Lines, and is amazed. 
— Ha,— heavens'! What's this? I am amazed!  
— And yet I'll venture once more.—  [Writes and studies. 
[Writes.]— I blushed, and veiled my wishing Eyes.  [Lays down the Book, and walks as before. 
— Wishing Eyes—  [Har. Writes as before. 
[Har. writes.]— And answered only with my Sighs.  [She turns and takes the Tablet. Bell. 
— Ha,— What is this? Witchcraft or some  
Divinity of Love? some Cupid sure invisible.—  
Once more I'll try the Charm.—  
[Bell. writes.]— Could I a better way my Love impart?  [Studies and walks. 
— Impart—  [He writes as before. 
[Har. wri.]— And without speaking, tell him all my Heart.  Bell. 
— 'Tis here again, but where's the Hand that writ it?  [Looks about. 
— The little Deity that will be seen  
But only in his Miracles. It cannot be a Devil,  
For here's no Sin nor Mischief in all this.  Enter Charmante. She hides the Tablet, he steps to her, and snatches it from her and Reads. Char. Reads. 

Out of a great Curiosity,  
A Shepherd this implored of me.  
Tell me, said he, my Bellemante.  
Will you be kind to your Charmante?  
I blushed, and veiled my wishing Eyes,  
And answered only with my Sighs.  
Could I a better way my Love impart?  
And without speaking, tell him all my Heart.   Char. 
Whose is this different Character?  [Looks angry. Bell. 
'Tis yours for aught I know.  Char. 
Away, my Name was put here for a blind.  
What Rhyming Fop have you been clubbing Wit withal?  Bell. 
Ah, mon Dieu!— Charmante Jealous!  Char. 
Have I not cause?— Who writ these Boremes?  Bell. 
Some kind assisting Deity, for aught I know.  Char. 
Some kind assisting Coxcomb, that I know,  
The Ink's yet wet, the Spark is near I find.—  Bell. 
Ah, Maluruse! How was I mistaken in this Man?  Char. 
Mistaken! What, did you take me for, an easy Fool to be imposed upon?— One that would be cuckolded by every feathered Fool; that you should call a— Beau un Gallant Huome. ' 'sdeath! Who would dote upon a fond She-Fop?— A vain conceited Amorous Cocquett.  [Goes out, she pulls him back. Enter Scaramouch, running. Sca. 
Oh Madam! hide your Lover, or we are all undone.  Char. 
I will not hide, till I know the thing that made the Verses.  [The Doctor calling as on the Stairs. Doct. 
Bellemante, Niece,— Bellemante.  Scar. 
She's coming Sir.— Where, where shall I hide him?— Oh, the Closet's open!  [Thrusts him into the Closet by force. Doct. 
Oh Niece! 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 Marked with a Cross and Figure of Three, they concern my Brother and I.  [She looks on Scaramouch, and makes pitiful Signs, and goes out. 
— Come Scaramouch, and get me ready for my Journey, and on your Life, let not a Door be opened till my Return.  [Ex. Enter Mopsophil. Har. peeps from under the Table. Har. 
Ha! Mopsophil, and alone!  Mop. 
Well, 'tis a delicious thing to be Rich; what a World of Lovers it invites: I have one for every Hand, and the Favourite for my Lips.  Har. 
Ay, him would I be glad to know.  [And peeping. Mop. 
But of all my Lovers, I am for the Farmer's Son, because he keeps a Calash— and I'll swear a Coach is the most agreeable thing about a man.  Har. 
Ho, ho!  Mop. 
Ah me,— What's that?  [He answers in a shrill Voice. Har. 
The Ghost of a poor Lover, dwindled into a Hey-ho.  [He rises from under the Table and falls at her Feet. Scaramouch enters. She runs off squeaking. Sca. 
Ha, my Rival and my Mistress!—  
Is this done like a Man of Honour, Monsieur Harlequin,  
To take Advantages to injure me?  [Draws. Har. 
All Advantages are lawful in Love and War.  Scar. 
'Twas contrary to our League and Covenant; therefore I defy thee as a Traitor.  Har. 
I scorn to fight with thee, because I once called thee Brother.  Scar. 
Then thou'rt a Paltroon, that's to say, a Coward.  Har. 
Coward, nay, than I am provoked, come on—  Scar. 
Pardon me, Sir, I gave the Coward, and you ought to strike.  [They go to sight ridiculously, and ever as Scaramouch passes, Harlequin leaps aside, and skips so nimbly about, he cannot touch him for his Life; which after a while endeavouring in vain, he lays down his Sword. 
— If you be for dancing, Sir, I have my Weapons for all occasions.  [Scar. pulls out a Fleut Deux, and falls to Playing. Har. throws down his, and falls a Dancing; after the Dance, they shake Hands. Har. 
He my Bone Am— Is not this better than Duelling?  Scar. 
But not altogether so Heroic, Sir. 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.  [Elaria within. Ela. 
Cousin Bellemante, Cousin.  Scar. 
'Slife, let's be gone, lest we be seen in the Lady's Apartment.  [Scar. slips Harlequin behind the Door. Enter Elaria. Ela. 
How now, how came you here?—  [Signs to Har. to go out. Scar. 
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.  Ela. 
But what if any one by my Father's Order, or he himself, should by some chance surprise us?  Scar. 
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.  [Goes out. Ela. 
I tremble, but know not whether 'tis with Fear or Joy.  Enter Cinthio. Cin. 
My dear Elaria—  [Runs to embrace her, she starts from him. 
— Ha,— shun my Arms, Elaria!  Ela. 
Heavens! Why did you come so soon?  Cin. 
Is it too soon, when ere 'tis safe, Elaria?  Ela. 
I die with fear— Met you not Scaramouch?  
He went to bid you wait a while; What shall I do?  Cin. 
Why this Concern? none of the House has seen me. I saw your Father taking Horse.  Ela. 
Sure you mistake, methinks I hear his Voice.  Doct. below.] 
— My Key— The Key of my Laboratory.—  
Why, Knave Scaramouch, where are you?—  Eld. 
Do you hear that, Sir?— Oh, I'm undone!—  
Where shall I hide you?— He approaches—  [She searches where to hide him. 
— Ha,— my Cousins Closet's open,— step in a little.—  [He goes in, she puts out the Candle. Enter the Doctor. She gets round the Chamber to the Door, and as he advances in, she steals out. Doct. 
Here I must have dropped it; a Light, a Light— there—  Enter Cinthio from the Closet, pulls Charmante out, they not knowing each other. Cin. 
Oh this perfidious Woman! no marvel she was so surprised and angry at my Approach to Night.—  Cham 
Who can this be?— but I'll be prepared—  [Lays his Hand on his Sword. Doct. 
Why Scaramouch, Knave, a Light!  [Turns to the Door to call. Enter Scaramouch with a Light, and seeing the two Lovers there, runs against his Master, puts out the Candle, and flings him down, and falls over him. At the entrance of the Candle, Charmante slipped from Cinthio into the Closet. Cinthio gropes to find him; when Mopsophil and Elaria, hearing a great Noise, enter with a Light. Cinthio finding he was discovered, falls to acting a Mad Man. Scaramouch helps up the Doctor, and bows. 
— Ha,— a Man,— and in my House,—  
Oh dire Misfortune!— Who are you, Sir?  Cin. 
Men call me Gog Magog, the Spirit of Power;  
My Right-hand Riches holds, my Lefthand Honour.  
Is there a City Wife would be a Lady?— Bring her to me,  
Her easy Cuckold shall be dubbed a Knight.  Ela. 
Oh Heavens! a mad Man, Sir.  Cin. 
Is there a Tawdry Fop would have a Title?  
A rich Mechanic that would be an Alderman?  
Bring 'em to me,  
And I'll convert that Coxcomb, and that Blockhead, into, Your Honour, and Right Worshipful.  Doct. 
Mad, stark mad! Why Sirrah, Rogue— Scaramouch— How got this mad Man in?  [While the Doctor turns to Scaramouch, Cinthio speaks softly to Elaria. Cin. 
Oh, thou perfidious Maid! Who hast thou hid in yonder conscious Closet?  [Aside to her. Scar. 
Why Sir, he was brought in a Chair for your Advice, but how he rambled from the Parlour to this Chamber, I know not.  Cin. 
Upon a winged Horse, Icliped Pegasus,  
Swift as the fiery Racers of the Sun,  
— I fly— I fly—  
See how I mount, and cut the liquid Sky.  [Runs out. Doct. 
Alas poor Gentleman, he's passed all Cure— But Sirrah, for the future, take you care that no young mad Patients be brought into my House.  Scar. 
I shall Sir,— and see— here's your Key you looked for.—  Doct. 
That's well; I must be gone— Bar up the Doors, and upon Life or Death let no man enter.  [Exit Doctor, and all with him, with the Eight. [Charmante peeps out— and by degrees comes all out, listing every step. Char. 
Who the Devil could that be that pulled 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 Mistresses.  [Exit. As he is gone off, enter Cinthio groping. Cin. 
Now for this lucky Rival, if his Stars will make this last part of his Adventure such. I hid myself in the next Chamber, till I heard the Doctor go, only to return to be revenged.  [He gropes his way into the Closet, with his Sword drawn. Enter Elaria with a Light. Ela. 
Scaramouch tells me Charmante is concealed 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.  [Goes to the Door. 
— Sir, Sir, Where are you? they are all gone, you may adventure out.  [Cinthio comes out. 
— Ha,— Cinthio here!—  Cin. 
Yes Madam, to your shame—  
Now your Perfidiousness is plain— False Woman,  
'Tis well your Lover had the Dexterity of escaping, I'd spoiled his making Love else.  [Gets from her, she holds him. Ela. 
Prithee hear me.  Cin. 
— But since my Ignorance of his Person saves his Life, live and possess him, till I can discover him.  [Goes out. Ela. 
Go peevish Fool—  [Ex. 
Whose Jealousy believes me given to Change,  
Let thy own Torments be my just Revenge.   
The End of the first Act.   

ACT II.  

SCENE I. An Antic Dance.  After the Music has played. Enter Elaria to her Bellemante. Elari. 
Heaven's Bellemante! Where have you been?  Bell. 
Fatigued with the most disagreeable Affair, for a Person of my Humour, in the World. Oh, how I hate Business, which I do no more mind, than a Spark does the Sermon, who is ogling his Mistress at Church all the while: I have been ruffling over twenty Reams of Paper for my Uncle's Writings.—  Enter Scaramouch. Scar. 
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?  Ela. 
Nay, Heaven knows.  Bell. 
How! I hope not so; I left Charmante confined to my Closet, when my Uncle had like to have surprised us together: Is he not here?—  Ela. 
No, he's escaped, but he has made sweet doings.  Bell. 
Heaven's Cousin! What?  Ela. 
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 Father's Presence hindered, I believe there had been Murder committed; how ever, they both escaped unknown.  Scar. 
Pshaw, is this all? Lover's 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 Fiddles Treat, and all are prepared.—  [Ex. Scara. Enter Mopsophil. Mops. 
Madam, your Cousin Florinda, with a Lady, are come to visit you.  Bell. 
I'm glad on't, 'tis a good Wench, and we'll trust her with our Mirth and Secret.  [They go out.  

SCENE Changes. To the Street.  Enter Page with a Flambeaux, followed by Cinthio; passes over the Stage. Scaramouch follows Cinthio in a Campaign Coat. Scar. 
'TIs Cinthio— Don Cinthio—  [Calls, he turns. 
— Well, what's the Quarrel?— How fell ye out?  Cin. 
You may inform yourself I believe, for these close Intrigues cannot be carried on without your Knowledge.  Scar. 
What Intrigues Sir? be quick, for I'm in haste.  Cin. 
Who was the Lover I surprised i'th' Closet?  Scar. 
Deceptio visus, Sir; the Error of the Eyes.  Cin. 
Thou Dog,— I felt him too; but since the Rascal scaped me— I'll be Revenged on thee—  [Goes to beat him, he running away, runs against Harlequin, who is entering with Charmante, and like to have thrown 'em both down. Char. 
Ha,—— What's the matter here?—  Scar. 
Signior Don Charmante—  [Then he struts courageously in with 'em. Char. 
What, Cinthio in a Rage!  
Who's the unlucky Object?  Cin. 
All Man and Woman Kind: Elaria's false.  Char. 
Elaria false! take heed, sure her nice Virtue is  
Proof against the Vices of her Sex.  
— Say rather Bellemante.  
She who by Nature's light and wavering.  
The Town contains not such a false Impertinent.  
This Evening I surprised her in her Chamber  
Writing of Verses, and between her Lines,  
Some Spark had newly penned his proper Stuff.  
Curse of the Jilt, I'll be her Fool no more.  Har. 
I doubt you are mistaken in that, Sir, for 'twas  
I was the Spark that writ the proper Stuff.  
To do you Service—  Char. 
Thou!  Scar. 
Ay, we that spend our Lives and Fortunes here to serve you,— to be used like Pimps and Scoundrels.— Come Sir,— satisfy him who 'twas was hid i'th' Closet, when he came in and found you.  Cin. 
Ha,— is't possible? Was it Charmante?  Char. 
Was it you, Cinthio? Pox on't, what Fools are we, we could not know one another by Instinct?  Scar. 
Well, well, dispute no more this clear Case, but le's hasten to your Mistresses.  Cin. 
I'm ashamed to appear before Elaria.  Char. 
And I to Bellemante.  Scar. 
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.  [Exeunt Omnes.  

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.  Enter Elaria, Bellemante Mopsophil, and Ladies, dressed in Masking Habits. Elaria. 
I Am extremely pleased with these Habits, Cousin.  Bell. 
They are A la Gothic and Uncomune.  Lady. 
Your Lovers have a very good Fancy, Cousin, I long to see 'em.  Ela. 
And so do I. I wonder Scaramouch stays so, and what Success he has.  Bell. 
you have no cause to doubt, you can so easily acquit yourself; but I, what shall I do? who can no more imagine who should write those Boremes, than who I shall love next, if I break off with Charmante.  Lady. 
If he be a Man of Honour, Cousin, when a Maid protests her Innocence——  Bell. 
Ay, but he's a Man of Wit too, Cousin, and knows when Women protest most, they likely lie most.  Ela. 
Most commonly, for Truth needs no asseveration.  Bell. 
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 would damn a Woman with protesting, before she can convince 'em.  Ela. 
Such a one is not worth convincing, I would not make the World wise at the expense of a Virtue.  Bell. 
Nay, he shall e'en remain as Heaven made him for me, since there are Men enough for all uses.  Enter Charmante and Cinthio, dressed in their Gothic Habits. Scaramouch, Harlequin and Music. Charmante and Cinthio kneel. Cin. 
Can you forgive us?  [Elaria takes him up. Bell. 
That, Cinthio, you're convinced, I do not wonder; but how Charmante's Goodness is inspired, I know not.  [Takes him up. Char. 
Let it suffice, I'm satisfied, my Bellemante.  Ela. 
Pray know my Cousin Florinda.  [They salute the Lady. Bell. 
Come, let us not lose time, since we are all Friends.  Char. 
The best use we can make of it, is to talk of Love.  Bell. 
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 would you more?  Char. 
Yes, wish a little more.  Bell. 
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.  Ela. 
Our Fortune's depending solely on his Pleasure, which is too considerable to lose.  Cin. 
All things are ordered as I have written you at large; our Scenes and all our Properties are ready; we 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 complete.  [The Music plays. Enter some Antics and dance. They all sit the while. Ela. 
Your Dancers have performed well, but 'twere fit we knew who we have trusted with this Evenings Intrigue.  Cin. 
Those, Madam, who are to assist us in carrying on a greater Intrigue, the gaining of you. They are our Kinsmen.  Ela. 
Then they are doubly welcome.  [Here is a Song in Dialogue, with Fleut Deux and Harpsicals. Shepherd and Sheperdess; which ended, they all dance a Figure Dance. Cin. 
Hark, what Noise is that? sure 'tis in the next Room.  Doct. within.] 
Scaramouch, Scaramouch!  [Scar. runs to the Door and holds it fast. Scar. 
Ha,— the Devil in the likeness of my old Master's Voice, for 'tis impossible it should be he himself.  Char. 
If it be he, how got he in? did you not secure the Doors?  Ela. 
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.  Doct. 
Scaramouch, Knave, where are you?  Scar. 
'Tis he, 'tis he, follow me all—  [He goes with all the Company behind the Front Curtain. 
Without Doctor.] I tell you Sirrah, I heard the Noise of Fiddles.  
Without Peter. No surely Sir, 'twas a Mistake.  [Knocking at the Door. [Scaramouch having placed them all in the Hanging, in which they make the Figures, where they stand without Motion in Postures. He comes out. He opens the Door with a Candle in his Hand. Enter the Doctor and Peter with a Light. Scar. 
Bless me, Sir! Is it you,— or your Ghost.  Doct. 
'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—  [Canes him. He cries. Scar. 
What d'ye mean, Sir? what d'ye mean?  Doct. 
Sirrah, must I stand waiting your Leisure, while you are Rogueing here? I will reward ye.  [Beats him. Scar. 
Ay, and I shall deserve it richly, Sir, when you know all.  Doct. 
I guess all, Sirrah, and I heard all, and you shall be rewarded for all. Where have you hid the Fiddles, you Rogue?  Scar. 
Fiddles, Sir!—  Doct. 
Ay, Fiddles, Knave.  Scar. 
Fiddles, Sir!— Where?  Doct. 
Here,— here I heard 'em, thou false Steward of thy Master's Treasure.  Scar. 
Fiddles, Sir! Sure 'twas Wind got into your Head, and whistled in your Ears, riding so late, Sir.  Doct. 
Ay, thou false Varlet, there's another Debt I owe thee, for bringing me so damnable a Lie: My Brother's well— I met his Valet but a League from Town, and found thy Rogury out.  [Beats him. He cries. Scar. 
Is this the Reward I have for being so diligent since you went?  Doct. 
In what, thou Villain? in what?  [The Curtain is drawn up, and discovers the Hangings where all of them stand. Scar. 
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.  Doct. 
Ha— Hum— It is indeed a stately Piece of Work; how came I by 'em?  Scar. 
'Twas sent your Reverence from the Vertuoso, or some of the cabalists.  Doct. 
I must confess, the Workmanship is excellent,— but still I do insist I heard the Music.  Scar. 
'Twas then the tuning of the Spheres, some serinade, Sir, from the Inhabitants of the Moon.  Doct. 
Hum,— from the Moon,— and that may be—  Scar. 
Lord, d'ye think I would deceive your Reverence?  Doct. 
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.—  [Aside. 
— Prithee what Story's this?  [Looks on the Hangings. Scar. 
Why, Sir,— ' Tis.—  Doct. 
Hold up the Candles higher, and nearer.  [Peter and Scaramouch hold Candles near. He takes a Perspective and looks through it; and coming nearer, Harlequin, who is placed on a Tree in the Hangings, hits him on the Head with his Truncheon. He starts, and looks about. He sits still. Scar. 
Sir.—  Doct. 
What was that struck me?  Scar. 
Struck you, Sir! Imagination.  Doct. 
Can my Imagination feel, Sirrah?  Scar. 
Oh, the most tenderly of any part about one, Sir!  Doct. 
Hum— That may be—  Scar. 
Are you a great Philosopher, and know not that, Sir?  Doct. 
This Fellow has a glimpse of Profundity—  [Aside. Looks again. 
— I like the Figures well.  Scar. 
You will, when you See 'em by Daylight, Sir.  [Har. hits him again. The Doctor sees him. Doct. 
Ha,— Is that Imagination too— Betrayed, betrayed, undone; run for my Pistols, call up my Servants Peter, a Plot upon my Daughter and my Niece.  [Runs out with Peter. [Scaramouch puts out the Candle, they come out of the Hanging, which is drawn away. He places 'em in a Row just at the Entrance. Scar. 
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.  Cin. 
And leave thee to bear the Brunt?  Sca. 
Take you no care for that, I'll put it into my Bill of Charges, and be paid all together.  Enter the Doctor with Pistols, and Peter. Doct. 
What, by dark? that shall not save you, Villains, Traitors to my Glory and Repose.— Peter, hold fast the Door, let none escape.  [They all slip out. Pet. 
I'll warrant you, Sir.  [Doctor gropes about, then stamps and calls. Doct. 
Lights there— Lights— I'm sure they could not scape.  Pet. 
Impossible, Sir.  Enter Scaramouch undressed in his Shirt, with a Light. Starts. Scar. 
Bless me!— what's here?  Doct. 
Ha,— Who art thou?  [Amazed to see him enter so. Sca. 
ay, who the Devil are you, and you go to that.  [Rubs his Eyes, and brings the Candle nearer. Looks on him. 
— Mercy upon us!— Why what is't you, Sir, returned so soon?  Doct. 
Returned!  [Looking sometimes on him, sometimes about. Scar. 
Ay Sir, Did you not go out of Town last night, to your Brother the Advocate?  Doct. 
Thou Villain, thou question'st me, as if thou knew'st not that I was returned.  Scar. 
I know, Sir! how should I know? I'm sure I am but just waked from the sweetest Dream—  Doct. 
You dream still, Sirrah, but I shall wake your Rogueship.— Were you not here but now, showing me a piece of Tapestry, you Villain?—  Scar. 
Tapestry!—  [Mopsophil listening all the while. Doct. 
Yes Rogue, yes, for which I'll have thy Life—  [Offering a Pistol. Scar. 
Are you stark mad, Sir? or do I dream still?  Doct. 
Tell me, and tell me quickly, Rogue, who were those Traitors that were hid but now in the Disguise of a piece of Hangings.  [Holds the Pistol to his Breast. Scar. 
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?  Doct. 
You shall feel I am, Sirrah, if thou confess not.  Scar. 
Confess, Sir! What should I confess?— I understand not your Cabalistical Language; but in mine, I confess that you have waked 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 Mistress Elaria, and that his Brother, the Prince, Sir, of Thunderland, was also in Love with Mistress Bellemante; and methoughts they descended to court 'em in your Absence.— And that at last you surprised 'em, and that they transformed 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 waked, Sir, and hearing Humane Voices here, came to see what the Matter was.  [This while the Doctor lessens his signs of Rage by degrees, and at last stands in deep Contemplation. Doct. 
May I credit this?  Scar. 
Credit it! By all the Honour of your House, by my unseparable Veneration for the Mathematics, 'tis true, Sir.  Doct. 
— 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 wondrous Virtue in him, to be worthy of these Divine Intelligences.  [Aside. 
— But if that Mortal should 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 Niece, and hear what knowledge they may have of this.  Mop. 
Will you so? I'll secure you, the Frolic shall go round.  Doct. 
Scaramouch, If you have not deceived me in this Matter, time will convince me farther; if it rest here, I shall believe you false—  Sca. 
Good Sir, suspend your Judgement and your Anger then.  Doct. 
I'll do't, go back to Bed—  [Ex. Doctor and Peter. Scar. 
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 canst be madder yet,  
We'll find a Medicine that shall cure your Fit.  
— Better than all Gallanicus.  [Goes out. SCENE Draws off. Discovers Elaria, Bellemante, and Mopsophil in Night-Gowns. Mop. 
You have your Lessons, stand to it bravely, and the Town's our own, Madam.  [They put themselves in Postures of Sleeping, leaning on the Tabbe, Mopsophil lying at their Feet. Enter Doctor, softly. Doct. 
Ha, not in Bed! this gives me mortal Fears.  Bell. 
Ah, Prince—  [She speaks as in her Sleep. Doct. 
Ha, Prince!  [Goes nearer and listens. Bell. 
How little Faith I give to all your Courtship, who leaves our Orb so soon.  [In a feigned Voice. Doct. 
Ha, said she Orb?  [Goes nearer. Bell. 
But since you are of a Celestial Race,  
And easily can penetrate  
Into the utmost limits of the Thought,  
Why should I fear to tell you of your Conquest?  
— And thus implore your Aid.  [Rises and runs to the Doctor. Kneels, and holds him fast. He shows signs of Joy. Doct. 
I am Ravished!  Bell. 
Ah, Prince Divine, take Pity on a Mortal—  Doct. 
I am rapt!  Bell. 
And take me with you to the World above.  Doct. 
The Moon, the Moon she means, I am Transported, Overjoyed, and Ecstacyed.  [Leaping and jumping from her Hands, she seems to wake. Bell. 
Ha, my Uncle come again to interrupt us!  Doct. 
Hide nothing from me, my dear Bellemante, since all already is discovered to me— and more.—  Ela. 
Oh, why have you waked me from the softest Dream that ever Maid was blessed with?  Doct. 
What— what my best Elaria?  [With overjoy. Ela. 
Methought I entertained a Demi-God, one of the gay Inhabitants of the Moon.  Bell. 
I'm sure mine was no Dream— I waked, I heard, I saw, I spoke— and danced to the Music of the Spheres, and methought my glorious Lover tied a Diamond Chain about my Arm—— and see 'tis all substantial.  [Shows her Arm. Ela. 
And mine a Ring, of more than mortal Lustre.  Doct. 
Heaven keep me moderate! least excess of Joy should make my Virtue less.  [Stifling his Joy. 
— There is a wondrous Mystery in this.  
A mighty Blessing does attend your Fates.  
Go in, and pray to the chaste Powers above  
To give you Virtue fit for such Rewards.  [They go in. 
— How this agrees with what the learned Caballist informed me of last Night! He said, that great Iredonozor, the Emperor of the Moon, was enamoured 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 satisfied in this main Point of deep Philosophy.  
I'll to my Study,— for I cannot rest,  
Till I this weighty Mystery have discussed.  [Ex. very gravely.  

SCENE. The Garden.  Enter Scaramouch with a Ladder. Scar. 
THo' I am come off en Cavalier with my Master, I am not with my Mistress, whom I promised to console this Night, and is but just I should make good this Morning; 'twill be rude to surprise her Sleeping, and more Gallant to wake her with a Serinade at her Window.  [Sets the Ladder to her Window, fetches his Lute, and goes up the Ladder. He Plays and Sings this Song. 

When Maidens are young and in their Spring  
Of Pleasure, of Pleasure, let 'em take their full Swing, full Swing,— full Swing,—  
And Love, and Dance, and Play, and Sing.  
For Silvia, believe it, when Youth is done,  
There's nought but hum drum, hum drum, hum drum;  
There's nought but hum drum, hum drum, hum drum.  
Then Silvia be wise— be wise— be wise,  
Tho' Painting and Dressing, for a while, are Supplies,  
And may— surprise—  
But when the Fire's going out in your Eyes,  
It twinkles, it twinkles, it twinkles, and dies.  
And then to hear Love, to hear Love from you,  
I'd as live hear an Owl cry— Wit to woo,  
Wit to woo, Wit to woo.   Enter Mopsophil above. Mop. 
What woeful Ditty-making Mortal's this?  
That ere the Lark her early Note has sung,  
Does dolesul Love beneath my Casement thrum.—  
— Ah, Signior Scaramouch, is it you?  Scar. 
Who should it be, that takes such pains to sue?  Mop. 
Ah, Lover most true Blue.  Enter Harlequin in womens' clothes. Har. 
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 Mistress at the Window, courting my Rival! Ah Gipsy!—  Scar. 
— But we lose precious time, since you design me a kind Hour in your Chamber.  Har. 
Oh Traitor!—  Mop. 
You'll be sure to keep it from Harlequin.  Har. 
Ah yes, he, hang him Fool, he takes you for a Saint.  Scar. 
Harlequin!— Hang him, shotten Herring.  Har. 
Ay, a Gully, a Noddy.  Mop. 
A mere Zany.  Har. 
Ah, hard hearted Turk.  Mop. 
Fit for nothing but a Cuckold.  Har. 
Monster of Ingratitude! How shall I be revenged?  [Scar. going over the Balcony. 
— Hold, hold, thou perjured Traitor.  [Cries out in a Woman's Voice. Mop. 
Ha,— Discovered!— A Woman in the Garden!  Har. 
Come down, come down, thou false perfidious Wretch.  Scar. 
Who, in the Devil's Name, art thou?  
And to whom dost thou speak?  Har. 
To thee, thou false Deceiver, that hast broke thy  
Vows, thy Lawful Vows of Wedlock—  [Bawling out. 
Oh, oh, that I should live to see the Day!—  [Crying. Scar. 
Who mean you, Woman?  Har. 
Whom should I mean, but thou— my lawful Spouse?  Mop. 
Oh Villain!— Lawful Spouse!— Let me come to her.  [Scar. comes down, as Mopsophil flings out of the Balcony. Scar. 
The Woman's mad— hark ye Jade— how long have you been thus distracted?  Har. 
ere since I loved and trusted thee, false Varlet.  
— See here,— the Witness of my Love and Shame.  [Bawls, and points to her Belly. Just than Mopsophil enters. Mop. 
How! with Child!—— Out Villain, was I made a Property?  Sca. 
Hear me.  Har. 
Oh, thou Heathen Christian!— Was not one Woman enough?  Mop. 
Ay, Sirrah, answer to that.  Scar. 
I shall be sacrificed.—  Mop. 
I am resolved to marry to morrow— either to the Apothecary or the Farmer, men I never saw, to be revenged on thee, thou termagant Infidel.  Enter the Doctor. Doct. 
What Noise, what Outcry, what Tumult's this?  Har. 
Ha,— the Doctor!— What shall I do?—  [Gets to the Door, Scar. pulls her in. Doct. 
A Woman— some Bawd I am sure—  
Woman, what's your Business here?— ha—  Har. 
I came, an't like your Seigniorship, to Madam the Governante here, to serve her in the Quality of a Filly de Chambre, to the young Ladies.  Doct. 
A Filly de Chambre! 'tis so, a she Pimp,—  Har. 
Ah, Signior—  [Makes his little dapper Leg instead of a Curtsy. Doct. 
How now, what do you mock me?  Har. 
Oh Signior!—  [Gets nearer the Door. Mop. 
Stay, stay, Mistress, and what Service are you able to do the Signors Daughters?  Har. 
Is this Signior Doctor Baliardo, Madam?  Mop. 
Yes.  Har. 
Oh! He's a very handsome Gentleman— indeed—  Doct. 
Ay, ay, what Service can you do, Mistress?  Har. 
Why Signior, I can tie a Cravat the best of any Person in Naples, and I can comb a Periwig— and I can—  Doct. 
Very proper Service for young Ladies; you, I believe, have been Filly de Chambre to some young Cavaliers.  Har. 
Most true, Signior, why should not the Cavaliers keep Fills de Chambre, as well as great Ladies Valets de Chambre?  Doct. 
Indeed 'tis equally reasonable.— 'Tis 'a Bawd.—  [Aside. 
— But have you never served Ladies?  Har. 
Oh yes! I served a Parson's Wife.  Doct. 
Is that a great Lady?  Har. 
I surely, Sir, what is she else? for she wore her Mantoes of Brokad de or, Petticoats laced up to the Gathers, her Points, her Patches, Paints and Perfumes, and sat in the uppermost Place in the Church to.  Mop. 
But have you never served Countesses and duchess's?  Har. 
Oh, yes, Madam! the last I served, was an Alderman's Wife in the City.  Mop. 
Was that a Countess or a Duchess?  Har. 
Ay, certainly— for they have all the Money; and then for clothes, Jewels, and rich Furniture, and eating, they outdo the very Vice Reign herself.  Doct. 
This is a very ignorant running Bawd,— therefore first search her for Bellets Deux, and then have her Pumped.  Har. 
Ah, Signior,— Signior.—  [Scar. searches him, finds Leters. Scar. 
— Ha,— to Elaria— and Bellemante?—  [Reads the Outside, pops 'em into his Bosom. 
— These are from their Lovers—  
— Ha,— a Note to Mopsophil,— Oh, Rogue! have I found you?—  Har. 
If you have, 'tis but Trick for your Trick, Signior Scaramouch, and you may spare the Pumping.  Scar. 
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 Mistress Mopsophil.— See here's a Billet to her.—  Doct. 
What is he?  Scar. 
A Mongrel 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.  Doct. 
With all my Heart, and am glad he comes off so comically.  [Harlequin Dances. ['a knocking at the Gate. Scar. goes and returns. Scar. 
Sir, Sir, here's the rare Philosopher who was here yesterday.  Doct. 
Give him Entrance, and all depart.  Enter Charmante. Char. 
Blessed be those Stars! that first conducted me to so much Worth and Virtue, you are their Darling, Sir, for whom they wear their brightest Lustre.  
Your Fortune is established, you are made, Sir.  Doct. 
Let me contain my Joy—  [Keeping in an impatient Joy. 
— May I be worthy, Sir, to apprehend you?  Char. 
After long Searching, Watching, Fasting, Praying, and using all the virtuous means in Nature, whereby we solely do attain the highest Knowledge in Philosophy; it was resolved, by strong Intelligence— you were the happy Sire of that Bright Nymph, that had insascinated, charmed and conquered the mighty Emperor Iredonozor— the Monarch of the Moon.  Doct. 
I am-undone with Joy! ruined with Transport—  [Aside. 
—— Can it— can it, Sir,— be possible—  [Stifling his Joy, which breaks out. Char. 
Receive the Blessing, Sir, with moderation.  Doct. 
I do, Sir, I do.  Char. 
This very Night, by their great Art, they find  
He will descend, and show himself in Glory.  
An Honour, Sir, no Mortal has received  
This sixty hundred years.  Doct. 
Hum— Say you so, Sir? no Emperor ever descend this Sixty hundred years?  [Looks sad. 
— Was I deceived last night?  [Aside. Char. 
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 designed to you.  Doct. 
And will his Grace— be here in Person, Sir?  [Joyful. Char. 
In Person— and with him, a Man of mighty Quality, Sir,— 'tis thought— the Prince of Thunderland— but that's but whispered, Sir, in the Cabal, and that he loves your Niece.  Doct. 
Miraculous! how this agrees with all I've seen and heard— To Night, say you, Sir?  Char. 
So 'tis conjectured, Sir,— some of the Caballist— are of opinion— that last night there was some Sally from the Moon.  Doct. 
About what hour, Sir?  Char. 
The Meridian of the Night, Sir, about the hours of twelve or one, but who descended, or in what Shape, is yet uncertain.  Doct. 
This I believe, Sir.  Char. 
Why, Sir?  Doct. 
May I communicate a Secret of that Nature?  Char. 
To any of the Caballist, but none else.  Doct. 
Then know— last night, my Daughter and my  
Niece were entertained by those illustrious Heroes.  Char. 
Who, Sir? the Emperor and Prince his Cousin.  Doct. 
Most certain, Sir.  
But whether they appeared in solid Bodies, or Fantomical, is yet a Question, for at my unlucky approach, they all transformed themselves into a Piece of Hangings.  Char. 
'Tis frequent, Sir, their Shapes are numerous, and 'tis also in their Power to transform all they touch, by virtue of a certain Stone— they call the Ebula.  Doct. 
That wondrous Ebula, which Gonzales had?  Char. 
The same— by Virtue 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.  Doct. 
No wonder, Sir, Oh happy great Gonzales!  Char. 
Your Virtue, Sir, will render you as happy— but I must haste— this Night prepare your Daughter and your Niece, and let your House be Dressed, Perfumed, and Clean.  Doct. 
It shall be all performed, Sir.  Char. 
Be modest, Sir, and humble in your Elevation, for nothing shows the Wit so poor, as Wonder, nor Birth so mean, as Pride.  Doct. 
I humbly thank your Admonition, Sir, and shall, in all I can, struggle with Humane Frailty.  [Brings Char. to the Door bare. Exit. Enter Scaramouch peeping at the other Door. Scar. 
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 claimed 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 damned Mistress of mine, or all our Plot will be spoiled 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 revenged on her for abusing me.— Let me see— she is resolved 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 outwitted me.   
The End of the Second Act.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I. The Street, with the Town Gate, where an Officer stands with a Staff like a London Constable.  Enter Harlequin riding in a Calash, comes through the Gate towards the Stage, dressed like a Gentleman sitting in it. The Officer lays hold of his Horse. Officer. 
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.  Har. 
I am not ignorant of the Custom, Sir, but what's that to me?  Off. 
Not to you, Sir! why, what Privilege have you above the rest?  Har. 
Privilege, for what, Sir?  Off. 
Why for passing, Sir, with any of the before named Carriages.  Har. 
Art mad?— Dost not see I am a plain Baker, and this my Cart, that comes to carry Bread for the Viceroy's, and the Cities Use?— ha—  Off. 
Are you mad, Sir, to think I cannot see a Gentleman Farmer and a Calash, from a Baker and a Cart?  Har. 
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.  Off. 
hay day! here's a fine Cheat upon the Vice Roy;  
Sir, pay me, or I'll seize your Horse.—  [Har. strikes him. They scuffle a little. 
— Nay, and you be so brisk, I'll call the Clerk from his Office.  Calls. 
— Mr. Clerk, Mr. Clerk.  [Goes to the Entrance to call the Clerk, the mean time Har. whips a Frock over himself, and puts down the hind part of the Chariot, and then 'tis a Cart. Enter Clerk. Cler. 
What's the matter here?—  Off. 
Here's a Fellow, Sir, will persuade me, his Calash is a Cart, and refuses the Customs for passing the Gate.  Cler. 
A Calash— Where?— I see only a Carter and his Cart.  [The Officer looks on him. Off. 
Ha,— What a Devil, was I blind?  Har. 
Mr. Clerk, I am a Baker, that come with Bread to sell, and this Fellow here has stopped me this hour, and made me lose the Sale of my Ware— and being Drunk, will outface me I am a Farmer, and this Cart a Calash.—  Cler. 
He's in an Error Friend, pass on—  Har. 
No Sir, I'll have satisfaction first, or the Viceroy shall know how he's served by drunken Officers, that Nuisance to a Civil Government.  Cler. 
What do you demand, Friend?  Har. 
Demand,— I demand a Crown, Sir.  Off. 
This is very hard— Mr. Clerk— If ever I saw in my Life, I thought I saw a Gentleman and a Calash.  Cler. 
Come, come, gratify him, and see better hereafter.  Off. 
Here Sir,— If I must, I must—  [Gives him a Crown. Cler. 
Pass on, Friend—  [Ex. Clerk. Har. unseen, puts up the Back of his Calash, and whips off his Frock, and goes to drive on, The Officer looks on him, and stops him again. Off. 
Hum, I'll swear it is a Calash— Mr. Clerk,  
Mr. Clerk, come back, come back—  [Runs out to call him. He changes as before. Enter Officer and Clerk. 
— Come Sir, let your own Eyes convince you, Sir.—  Cler. 
Convince me, of what, you Sot?  Off. 
That this is a Gentleman, and that a— ha,—  [Looks about on Har. Cler. 
Stark Drunk, Sirrah! if you trouble me at every Mistake of yours thus, you shall quit your Office.—  Off. 
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.  [The Clerk goes out, Har. puts up his Calash again, and pulls off his Frock and drives out. 
— Well, now to my thinking, 'tis as plain a Calash again, as ever I saw in my Life, and yet I'm satisfied 'tis nothing but a Cart.  [Exit.  

SCENE changes to the Doctor's House. The Hall.  Enter Scaramouch in a Chair, which set down and opened, on all sides, and on the top represents an Apothecary's Shop, the Inside being painted with Shelves and Rows of Pots and Bottles; Scaramouch sitting in it dressed in Black, with a short black Cloak, a Ruff, and little Hat. Scar. 
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 Mistress, and outwit Harlequin, but deliver the Ladies those Letters from their Lovers, which I took out of his Pocket this Morning, and who would suspect an Apothecary for a Pimp.— Nor can the Jade Mopsophil, in Honour, refuse a Person of my Gravity, and so well set up.—  [Pointing to his Shop. 
— Hum, the Doctor here first, this is not so well, but I'm prepared with Impudence for all Encounters.  Enter the Doctor. Scaramouch Salutes him gravely. 
— Most Reverend Doctor Baliardo.—  [Bows. Doct. 
Signior—  [Bows. Scar. 
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 famed for your admirable Skill, both in galenical and Paracelsian Phaenomena's, and other approved Felicities in Vulnerary Emetics, and purgative Experiences.  Doct. 
Signior,— your Opinion honours me— a rare Man this.  Scar. 
And though I am at present busied in writing— those few Observations I have accumulated in my Peregrinations, Sir, yet the Ambition I aspired to, of being an Ocular and Aurial Witness of your Singularity, made me trespass on your sublimer Affairs.  Doct. 
Signior.—  Scar. 
— Besides a violent Inclination, Sir, of being initiated into the Denomination of your Learned Family, by the Conjugal Circumference of a Matrimonial tie, with that singularly accomplished Person— Madam, the Governante of your Hostel.  Doct. 
Hum— A sweetheart for Mopsophil!  [Aside. Scar. 
And if I may obtain your Condescension to my Hymenaeal Propositions, I doubt not my Operation with the Fair One.  Doct. 
Signior, she is much honoured in the Overture, and my Abilities shall not be wanting to fix the Concord.  
— But have you been a Traveller, Sir?  Scar. 
Without Circumlocutions, Sir, I have seen all the Regions beneath the Sun and Moon.  Doct. 
Moon, Sir! You never traveled thither, Sir?  Scar. 
Not in Propria Persona, Signior, but by speculation, I have, and made most considerable remarks on 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.  Doct. 
A Map of the Lunar Mundus, Sir! May I crave the Honour of seeing it?  Scar. 
You shall, Sir, together with a Map of Terra Incognita, a great Rarety, indeed, Sir.  Enter Bellemante. Doct. 
Jewels, Sir, worth a King's Ransom.  Bell. 
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 tipped me some Tidings, and she deserves not a good Look, who understands not the Language of the Eyes.— Sir, Dinner's on the Table.  Doct. 
Let it wait, I am employed—  [She creeps to the other side of Scaramouch, who makes Signs with his Hand to her. Bell. 
Ha,— 'tis so,— This fellow has some Novel for us, some Letters or Instructions, but how to get it—  [As Scar. talks to the Doctor, he takes the Letters by degrees out of his Pocket, and unseen, gives 'em Bellemante behind him. Doct. 
But this Map, Signior; I protest you have filled me with Curiosity. Has it signified all things so exactly say you?  Scar. 
Omitted nothing, Signior, no City, Town, Village or Villa; no Castle, River, Bridge, Lake, Spring or Mineral.  Doct. 
Are any, Sir, of those admirable Mineral Waters there, so frequent in our World?  Scar. 
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.  Doct. 
Indeed, Sir! be pleased, Signior, to solve me some Queries that may enode some apparences of the Virtue of the Water you speak of.  Scar. 
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.  Doct. 
Hum—  [Gravely Nodding. Scar. 
Now, Sir, be pleased 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.  Doct. 
Hum.  Scar. 
And then the third Region, if the Faeces be volatile, the Birth will soon come in Balneo. This I observed also in the Laboratory of that Ingenious Chemist 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, called Islington.  Doct. 
Signior—  Scar. 
For, Sir, upon the Infusion, the Crow's Head immediately procures the Seal of Hermes, and had not Lac Virgins been too soon sucked up, I believe we might have seen the Consummation of Amalgena.  [Bellemante having got her Letters, goes off. She makes Signs to him to stay a little. He Nods. Doct. 
Most likely, Sir.  Scar. 
But, Sir, this Garamanteen relates the strangest Operation of a Mineral in the Lunar World, that ever I heard of.  Doct. 
As how, I pray, Sir?  Scar. 
Why, Sir, a Water impregnated to a Circulation with Fema Materia; upon my Honour, Sir, the strongest I ever drank of.  Doct. 
How, Sir! did you drink of it?  Scar. 
I only speak the words of Garamanteen, Sir.  
— Pox on him, I shall be trapped.  [Aside. Doct. 
Cry Mercy, Sir.—  [Bows. Scar. 
The Lunary Physicians, Sir, call it Urinam Vulcani, it Calibrates every one's 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.  Doct. 
How, Sir, grown Rich by drinking the Waters, and to your Knowledge?  Scar. 
The Devil's in my Tongue, to my Knowledge, Sir, for what a man of Honour relates, I may safely affirm.  Doct. 
Excuse me, Signior—  [Puts off his Hat again gravely. Scar. 
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.  Enter Bellemante with a Billet. Bell. 
Sir, 'tis three a Clock, and Dinner will be cold.—  [Goes behind Scaramouch, and gives him the Note, and goes out. Doct. 
I come Sweetheart; but this is wonderful.  Scar. 
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 Loadstone ad Anum.  Doct. 
Is't possible?  Scar. 
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.—.  Doct. 
Sir, she shall wait on you, and I shall be proud of the Honour of your Conversation.—  [They bow. Exit Doctor. Enter to him Harlequin, dressed like a Farmer, as before. Har. 
Hum— What have we here, a Tailor or a Tumbler?  Scar. 
Ha— Who's this?— Hum— What if it should be the Farmer that the Doctor has promised Mopsophil to? My Heart misgives me.  [They look at each other a while. 
Who would you speak with, Friend?  Har. 
This is, perhaps, my Rival, the Apothecary.— Speak with, Sir, why, what's that to you?  Scar. 
Have you Affairs with Signior Doctor, Sir?  Har. 
It may be I have, it may be I have not. What then, Sir?—  While they seem in angry Dispute, Enter Mopsophil. Mop. 
Signior 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 resolved to take the first good Offer, tho' but in Revenge of Harlequin and Scaramouch, for putting Tricks upon me.— Ha,— Two of'em!  Scar. 
My Mistress here!  [They both Bow and Advance, both putting each other by. Mop. 
Hold Gentlemen,— do not worry me.  
Which of you would speak with me?  Both. 
ay, I, I, Madam—  Mop. 
Both of you?  Both. 
No, Madam, I, I.  Mop. 
If both Lovers, you are both welcome, but let's have fair Play, and take your turns to speak.  Har. 
Ay, Signior, 'tis most uncivil to interrupt me.  Scar. 
And disingenuous, Sir, to intrude on me.  [Putting one another by. Mop. 
Let me then speak first.  Har. 
I'm Dumb.  Scar. 
I Acquiesce.  Mop. 
I was informed there was a Person here had Propositions of Marriage to make me.  Har. 
That's I, that's I—  [Shoves Scar. away. Scar. 
And I attend to that consequential Finis.  [Shoves Har. away. Har. 
I know not what you mean by your Finis, Signior, but I am come to offer myself this Gentlewoman's Servant, her Lover, her Husband, her Dog in a Halter, or any thing.  Scar. 
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.—  [In Rage. Har. 
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.—  Mop. 
Ah, how that Chariot pleads.—  [Aside. Scar. 
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.  [Points to the Shop. Mop. 
A City Apothecary, a most Gentile Calling— Which shall I choose?— Signior Apothecary, I'll not expostulate the Circumstantial Reasons that have occasioned me this Honour.—  Scar. 
Incomparable Lady, the Elegancy of your Repertees most excellently denote the Profundity of your Capacity.  Har. 
What the Devil's all this? Good Mr. Conjurer stand by— and done't fright the Gentlewoman with your Elegant Profondities.  [Puts him by. Scar. 
How, a Conjurer! I will chastise thy vulgar Ignorance, that yelips a Philosopher a Conjurer.  [In Rage. Har. 
Losaphers!— Prithee, if thou be'st a Man, speak like a Man— then  Scar. 
Why, What do I speak like? What do I speak like?  Har. 
What do you speak like— why you speak like a Wheel-Barrow.  Scar. 
How!—  Har. 
And how.  [They come up close together at half Sword Parry; stare on each other for a while, then put up and bow to each other civilly. Mop. 
That's well Gentlemen, let's have all Peace, while I survey you both, and see which likes me best.  [She goes between 'em, and surveys 'em both, they making ridiculous Bows on both sides, and Grimaces the while. 
— ha,— now on my Conscience, my two foolish Lovers,— Harlequin and Scaramouch; how are my Hope's defeated?— but Faith I'll fit you both.  [She views 'em both. Scar. 
So, she's considering still, I shall be the happy Dog.  [Aside. Har. 
She's taking aim, she cannot choose but like me best.  [Aside. Scar. 
Well, Madam, how does my Person propagate.  [Bowing and Smiling. Mop. 
Faith Signior, 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.  Scar. 
Ah, you are pleased, Madam.—  Mop. 
You are mistaken, Signior, I am displeased at your Grey Eyes, and Black Eyebrows and Beard, I never knew a Man with those Signs, true to his Mistress or his Friend. And I would sooner wed that Scoundrel Scaramouch, that very civil Pimp, that mere pair of Chemical Bellows that blow the Doctors projecting Fires, that Deputy-Urinal Shaker, that very Guzman of Salamanca, than a Fellow of your infallible Signum Mallis.  Har. 
Ha, ha, ha,— you have your Answer, Signior Friskin— and may shut up your Shop and be gone.— Ha, ha, ha.—  Sca. 
Hum, sure the Jade knows me—  [Aside. Mop. 
And as for you, Signior.  Har. 
Ha, Madam—  [Bowing and Smiling. Mop. 
Those Lantern Jaws of yours, with that most villainous Sneer and Grin, and a certain fierce Air 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 Lent, that very Top, that's of no use, but when 'tis whipped and lashed, that piteous Property I'd rather wed than thee.  Har. 
A very fair Declaration—  Mop. 
you understand me— and so adieu sweet Glister-pipe, and Signior dirty Boots, Ha, ha, ha.—  [Runs out. [They stand looking simply on each other, without speaking a while. Scar. 
That I should not know that Rogue Harlequin.  [Aside. Har. 
That I should take this Fool for a Physician.  [Aside. 
— How long have you commenced Apothecary, Signior?  Scar. 
Ever since you turned Farmer.—— Are not you a damned Rogue to put these Tricks upon me, and most dishonourably break all Articles between us?  Har. 
And are not you a damned Son of a—— something— to break Articles with me?  Scar. 
No more Words, Sir, no more words, I find it must come to Action,— Draw.—  [Draws. Har. 
Draw,— so I can draw, Sir.——  [Draws. They make a ridiculous cowardly Fight. Enter the Doctor, which they seeing, come on with more Courage. He runs between, and with his Cane beats the Swords down. Doct. 
Hold— hold— What mean you Gentlemen?  Scar. 
Let me go, Sir, I am provoked beyond measure, Sir.  Doct. 
You must excuse me, Signior—  [Parleys with Harlequin. Scar. 
I dare not discover the Fool for his Master's Sake, and it may spoil our Intrigue anon; besides, he'll then discover me, and I shall be discarded for bantering the Doctor.  [Aside. 
— A Man of Honour to be so basely affronted here.——  [The Doctor comes to appease Scaramouch. Har. 
Should I discover this Rascal, he would tell the Old Gentleman I was the same that attempted his House to day in Woman's clothes, and I should be kicked and beaten most unsatiably.  Scar. 
What, Signior, for a man of Parts to be imposed upon,— and whipped through the Lungs here— like a Mountebanks Zany for shame Cures— Mr. Doctor, I must tell you 'tis not Civil.  Doct. 
I am extremely 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,—  Enter Pedro 
— Take this Intruder, or bring some of your Fellows hither, and toss him in a Blanket—  [Ex. Pedro. Har. going to creep away, Scar. holds him. Har. 
Harkye,— bring me off, or I'll discover all your Intrigue.  [Aside to him. Scar. 
Let me alone—  Doct. 
I'll warrant you some Rogue that has some Plot on my Niece and Daughter.—  Scar. 
No, no, Sir, he comes to impose the grossest Lie upon you, that ever was heard of.  Enter Pedro with others, with a Blanket. They put Har. into it, and toss him. Har. 
Hold, hold,— I'll confess all, rather than endure it.  Doct. 
Hold,— What will you confess, Sir.  [He comes out. Makes sick Faces. Scar. 
— That he's the greatest Impostor in Nature. Would you think it, Sir? he pretends to be no less than an Ambassador from the Emperor of the Moon, Sir—  Doct. 
Ha,— Ambassador from the Emperor of the Moon—  [Pulls off his Hat. Scar. 
Ay, Sir, thereupon I laughed, thereupon he grew angry,— I laughed at his Resentment, and thereupon we drew— and this was the high Quarrel, Sir.  Doct. 
Hum,— Ambassador from the Moon.  [Pauses. Scar. 
I have brought you off, manage him as well as you can.  Har. 
Brought me off, yes, out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire. Why, how the Devil shall I act an Ambassador?  [Aside. Doct. 
It must be so, for how should either of these know I expected that Honour?  [He addresses him with profound Civility to Har. 
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 blessed with the Descension of any from your World.—  Har. 
What the Devil shall I say now?  [Aside. 
— I confess, I am as you see by my Garb, Sir, a little Incognito, because the Public 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, intent 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.  Scar. 
I'll leave the Rogue to his own Management.— I presume, by your whispering, Sir, you would be private, and humbly beging Pardon, take my Leave.  [Ex. Scaramouch. Har. 
You have it Friend. Does your Niece and Daughter Drink, Sir?  Doct. 
Drink, Sir?  Har. 
Ay, Sir, Drink hard.  Doct. 
Do the Women of your World drink hard, Sir?  Har. 
According to their Quality, Sir, more or less; the greater the Quality, the more Profuse the Quantity.  Doct. 
Why that's just as 'tis here; but your Men of Quality, your Statesmen, Sir, I presume they are Sober, Learned and Wise.  Har. 
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 fawning Suitor, 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.—  Doct. 
Just, just as 'tis here.  
— But pray Sir, How do these Great Men live with their Wives.  Har. 
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 Tore, or at the Basset-Table, where they civilly Salute and part, he to his Mistress, she to play.  Doct. 
Good lack! just as 'tis here.  Har. 
— 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.  Doct. 
— Just as 'tis here.  Har. 
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 Heroic Title of a Bully or a Sharper, they live pitied of their Friends, and despised by their Whores, and depart this Transitory World, divers and sundry ways.  Doct. 
Just, just, as 'tis here!  Har. 
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 Wife's Over-Gallantry break him; and thus the World runs round.——  Doct. 
The very same 'tis here.— Is there no preferment, Sir, for Men of Parts and Merit?  Har. 
Parts and Merit! What's that? a Livery, or the handsome tying a Cravat, for the great Men prefer none but their Footmen and Valets.  Doct. 
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.—  Har. 
The Devils in him for hard Questions.  
— I am a Naopolitan, Sir.  Doct. 
Sir, I Honour you; good luck, my Countryman!  
How got you to the Region of the Moon, Sir?  Har. 
— 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 Seaside— there arose, Sir, a great Mist, by the Sun's exhaling of the Vapours of the Earth, Sir.  Doct. 
Right, Sir.  Har. 
In this Fog or Mist, Sir, I was exhaled.  Doct. 
The Exhalations of the Sun, draw you to the Moon, Sir?  Har. 
I am condemned to the Blanket again.— I say, Sir, I was exhaled up, but in my way— being too heavy, was dropped into the Sea.  Doct. 
How, Sir, into the Sea?  Har. 
The Sea, Sir, where the Emperor's Fisherman 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 Spitchcocked for his own eating.—  Doct. 
How, Sir, eating?—  Har. 
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 asked me of what Country, I told him of Naples; whereupon the Emperor overjoyed asked 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.  Doct. 
Bless me, Sir! how came the Emperor to know my Daughter?  Har. 
— There he is again with his damned hard Questions.— Knew her, Sir,— Why— you were walking abroad one day.—  Doct. 
My Daughter never goes abroad, Sir, farther than our Garden.—  Har. 
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 Niece, and from that very moment, fell most desperately in Love.— But hark— the sound of Timbrils, Kettledrums and Trumpets.— The Emperor, Sir, is on his Way,— prepare for his Reception.  [A strange Noise is heard of Brass Kettles, and Pans, and Bells, and many tinkling things. Doct. 
I'm in a Rapture— How shall I pay my Gratitude for this great Negotiation?— but as I may, I humbly offer, Sir.—  [Presents him with a Rich Ring and a Purse of Gold. Har. 
Sir, as an Honour done the Emperor, I take your Ring and Gold. I must go meet his Highness.—  [Takes Leave. Enter to him Scaramouch, as himself. Scar. 
Oh, Sir! we are astonished with the dreadful sound of the sweetest Music that ever Mortal heard, but know not whence it comes. Have you not heard it, Sir?  Doct. 
Heard it, yes, Fool,— 'Tis the Music of the Spheres, the Emperor of the Moon World is descending.  Scar. 
How, Sir, no marvel then, that looking towards the South, I saw such splendid Glories in the Air.  Doct. 
Ha,— sawst thou ought descending in the Air?  Scar. 
Oh, yes, Sir, Wonders! haste to the old Gallery, whence, with the help of your Telescope, you may discover all.—  Doct. 
I would not lose a moment for the lower Universe.  Enter Elaria, Bellemante, Mopsophil, dressed in rich Antic Habits. Ela. 
Sir, we are dressed as you commanded us, What is your farther Pleasure?  Doct. 
— It well becomes the Honour you're designed for, this Night to wed two Princes— come with me and know your happy Fates.  [Ex. Doctor and Scar. Ela. 
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.  Bell. 
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 Fantastic Splendour of the unusual Sight, will so turn his Brain and dazzle 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.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE The Last. The Gallery richly adorned with Scenes and Lights.  Enter Doctor, Elaria, Bellemante, and Mopsophil. Soft Music is heard. Bell. 
HA— Heavens! what's here?— what Palace is this?— No part of our House, I'm sure.—  Ela. 
'Tis rather the Apartment of some Monarch.  Doct. 
I'm all amazement too, but must not show my Ignorance.— Yes, Elaria, this is prepared to entertain two Princes.  Bell. 
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?  Doct. 
How shall I resolve her?— For aught I know, we are.  [Aside. Ela. 
Sure, Sir, 'tis some Enchantment.  Doct 
Let not thy Female Ignorance profane the highest Mysteries of Natural Philosophy: To Fools it seems Enchantment— but I've a Sense can reach it,— sit and expect the Event.— Hark— I am amazed, but must conceal my Wonder— that Joy of Fools— and appear wise in Gravity.  Bell. 
Whence comes this charming Sound, Sir?  Doct. 
From the Spheres— it is familiar to me.  The Scene in the Front draws off, and shows the Hill of Parnassus; a noble large Walk of Trees leading to it, with eight or ten Negroes upon Pedestals, ranged on each side of the Walks. Next Keplair and Gallileus descend on each side, opposite to each other, in Chariots, with Perspectives in their Hands, as viewing the Machine of the Zodiac. Soft Music plays still. Doct. 
Methought I saw the Figure of two Men descend from yonder Cloud, on yonder Hill.  Ela. 
I thought so too, but they are disappeared, and the winged Chariot's fled.  Enter Keplair and Gallileus. Bell. 
See, Sir, they approach.—  [The Doctor rises and Bows. Keep. 
Most Reverend Sir, we, from the upper World, thus low salute you.— Keplair and Gallileus we are called, sent as Interpreters to Great Iredonozor, the Emperor of the Moon, who is descending.  Doct. 
Most Reverend Bards— profound Philosophers— thus low I bow to pay my humble Gratitude.  Keep. 
The Emperor, Sir, salutes you, and your fair Daughter.  Gall. 
And, Sir, the Prince of Thunderland salutes you, and your fair Niece.  Doct. 
Thus low I fall to thank their Royal Goodness.  [Kneels. They take him up. Bell. 
Came you, most Reverend Bards, from the Moon World?  Keep. 
Most Lovely Maid, we did.  Doct. 
May I presume to ask the manner how?  Keep. 
By Cloud, Sir, through the Regions of the Air, down to the famed Parnassus; thence by Water, along the River Helicon, the rest by Post, upon two winged Eagles.  Doct. 
Sir, are there store of our World inhabiting the Moon?  Keep. 
Oh, of all Nations, Sir, that lie beneath it in the Emperor's Train! Sir, you will behold abundance; look up and see the Orbal World descending; observe the Zodiac, Sir, with her twelve Signs.  [Next the Zodiac descends, a Symphony playing all the while; when it is landed, it delivers the twelve Signs: Then the Song, the Persons of the Zodiac being the Singers. After which, the Negro's Dance and mingle in the Chorus. 

A Song for the Zodiac.  
LET murmuring Lovers no longer Repine,  
But their Hearts and their Voices advance;  
Let the Nymphs and the Swains in the kind Chorus join,  
And the Satyrs and Fauns in a Dance.  
Let nature put on her Beauty of May,  
And the Fields and the Meadows adorn;  
Let the Woods and the Mountains resound with the Joy,  
And the Echoes their Triumph return.   

Chorus.  

For since Love wore his Darts,  
And Virgins grew Coy;  
Since these wounded Hearts,  
And those could destroy.  
There ne'er was more Cause for your Triumphs and Joy.   

Hark, bark, the Music of the Spheres,  
Some Wonder approaching declares;  
Such, such, as has not blessed your Eyes and Ears  
This thousand, thousand, thousand years.  
See, see what the Force of Love can make,  
Who rules in Heaven, in Earth and Sea;  
Behold how he commands the Zodiac,  
While the fixed Signs unhinging all obey.  
Not one of which, but represents  
The Attributes of Love,  
Who governs all the Elements  
In Harmony above.    

Chorus.  

For since Love wore his Darts,  
And Virgins grew Coy;  
Since these wounded Hearts,  
And those could destroy,  
There ne'er was more Cause for your Triumphs and Joy.   

The wanton Aries first descends,  
To show the Vigour and the Play,  
Beginning Love, beginning Love attends,  
When the young Passion is allover Joy,  
He bleats his soft Pain to the fair curled Throng,  
And he leaps, and he bounds, and Loves all the day long.  
At once Loves Courage and his Slavery  
In Taurus is expressed,  
Tho' o'er the Plains he Conqueror be,  
The Generous Beast  
Does to the Yoke submit his Noble Breast,  
While Gemini smiling and twining of Arms,  
Shows Love's soft Endearments and Charms.  
And Cancer's slow Motion the degrees do express,  
Respectful Love arrives to Happiness.  
Leo his Strength and Majesty,  
Virgo his blushing Modesty,  
And Libra all his Equity.  
His Subtlety does Scorpio show,  
And Sagittarius all his loose desire,  
By Capricorn his forward Humour know,  
And Aqua. Lover's Tears that raise his Fire,  
While Pisces, which entwined do move,  
Show the soft Play, and wanton Arts of Love.    

Chorus.  
For since Love wore his Darts,  
And Virgins grew Coy;  
Since these wounded Hearts,  
And those could destroy,  
There ne'er was more Cause for Triumphs and Joy:   
— See how she turns, and sends her Signs to Earth.— Behold the Ram— Aries— see Taurus next descends; than Gemini— see how the Boys embrace— Next Cancer, than Leo, than 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 Zodiac, Sir, attends him.  Doct. 
'Tis all amazing, Sir.  Keep. 
Now, Sir, behold, the Globick World descends two thousand Leagues below its wonted Station, to show Obedience to its proper Monarch.  [After which, the Globe of the Moon appears, first, like a new Moon; as it moves forward it increases, till it comes to the Full. When it is descended, it opens, and shows the Emperor and the Prince. They come forth with all their Train, the Flutes playing a Symphony before him, which prepares the Song. Which ended, the Dancers mingle as before. 

A SONG.  

ALL Joy to Mortals, Joy and Mirth  
Eternal IO'S sing;  
The Gods of Love descend to Earth,  
Their Darts have lost the Sting.  
The Youth shall now complain no more  
On Silvia's needless Scorn,  
But she shall love, if he adore,  
And melt when he shall burn.   

The Nymph no longer shall be shy,  
But leave the jilting Road;  
And Daphne now no more shall fly  
The wounded panting God;  
But all shall be serene and fair,  
No sad Complaints of Love  
Shall fill the Gentle whispering Air,  
No echoing Sighs the Grove.   

Beneath the Shades young Strephon lies,  
Of all his Wish possessed;  
Gazing on Silvia's charming Eyes,  
Whose Soul is there confessed.  
All soft and sweet the Maid appears,  
With Looks that know no Art,  
And though she yields with trembling Fears,  
She yields with all her Heart.    
— 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.—  [A Chariot appears, made like a Half Moon, in which is Cinthio for the Emperor, richly dressed and Charmante for the Prince, rich, with a good many Heroes attending. Cinthio's Train born by four Cupids. The Song continues while they descend and land. They address themselves to Elaria and Bellemante.— Doctor fallson his Face, the rest bow very low as they pass. They make signs to Keplair. Keep. 
The Emperor would have you rise, Sir, he will expect no Ceremony from the Father of his Mistress.  [Takes him up. Doct. 
I cannot, Sir, behold his Mightiness— the Splendour of his Majesty confounds me—  Keep. 
You must be moderate, Sir, it is expected.  [The two Lovers make all the Signs of Love in dumb show to the Ladies, while the soft Music plays again from the End of the Song.— Doct. 
Shall I not have the Joy to hear their Heavenly Voices, Sir?  Keep. 
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 Delphic Oracles.  Doct. 
Any way, so I may hear the Sense of what they would say.  Keep. 
No doubt you will— But see the Emperor commands by signs his Foreigners to dance—  [Soft Music changes. [A very Antic Dance. The Dance ended, the Front Scene draws off, and shows a Temple, with an Altar, one speaking thorugh a Stentraphon from behind it. Soft Music plays the while. Keep. 
Most Learned Sir, the Emperor now is going to declare himself, according to his Custom, to his Subjects. Listen.—  Sten. 
Most Reverend Sir, whose Virtue did incite us,  
Whose Daughters Charms did more invite us;  
We come to grace her with that Honour,  
That never Mortal yet had done her,  
Once only, Jove was known in Story,  
To visit Semele in Glory.  
But fatal 'twas, he so enjoyed her,  
Her own ambitious Flame destroyed her.  
His Charms too fierce for Flesh and Blood,  
She died embracing of her God.  
We gentler marks of Passion give,  
The Maid we love, shall love and live;  
Whom visibly we thus will grace,  
Above the rest of human Race.  
Say, is't your Will that we should Wed her,  
And nightly in Disguises Bed her.  Doct. 
The Glory is too great for Mortal Wife.  [Kneels with Transport. Sten. 
What then remains, but that we consummate  
This happy Marriage in our splendid State?  Doct. 
Thus low I kneel, in thanks for this great Blessing.  [Cinthio takes Elaria by the Hand; Charmante, Bellemante; two of the Singers in white being Priests, they lead'em to the Altar, the whole Company dividing one either side. Where, while a Hymeneal Song is sung, the Priest joins their Hands. The Song ended, and they Married, they come forth; but before they come forward,— two Chariots descend, one on one side above, and the other on the other side; in which, is Harlequin dressed like a Mock Hero, with others, and Scaramouch in the other, dressed so in Helmets. Scar. 
Stay mighty Emperor, and vouchsafe to be the Umpire of our Difference.  [Cinthio signs to Keplair. Keep. 
What are you?  Scar. 
Two neighbouring Princes to your vast Dominion.  Har. 
Knights of the Sun, our Honourable Titles.  
And fight for that fair Mortal, Mopsophil.  Mop. 
Bless us!— my two precious Lovers, I'll warrant; well, I had better take up with one of them, than lie alone to Night.  Scar. 
Long as two Rivals we have Loved and Hoped,  
Both equally endeavoured, and both failed.  
At last by joint Consent, we both agreed  
To try our Titles by the Dint of Lance,  
And chose your Mightiness for Arbitrator.  Keep. 
The Emperor gives Consent.—  [They both, all armed with gilded Lances and Shields of Black, with Golden Suns painted. The Music plays a fighting Tune. They fight at Barriers, to the Tune.— Harlequin is often Foiled, but advances still; at last Scaramouch throws him, and is Conqueror; all give Judgement for him. Keep. 
The Emperor pronounces you are Victor.—  [Too Scar. Doct. 
Receive your Mistress, Sir, as the Reward of your undoubted Valour—  [Presents Mopsophil. Scar. 
Your humble Servant, Sir, and Scaramouch, returns you humble Thanks.—  [Puts off his Helmet. Doct. 
Ha,— Scaramouch—  [Bawls out, and falls in a Chair. They all go to him. 
My Heart misgives me— Oh, I am undone and cheated every way.—  [Bawling out. Keep. 
Be patient, Sir, and call up all your Virtue,  
You're only cured, Sir, of a Disease  
That long has reigned over your Nobler Faculties.  
Sir, I am your Physician, Friend and Counsellor;  
It was not in the Power of Herbs or Minerals,  
Of Reason, common Sense, and right Religion,  
To draw you from an Error that unmanned you.  Doct. 
I will be Patient, Gentlemen, and hear you.  
— Are not you Ferdinand?  Keep. 
I am,— and these are Gentlemen of Quality,  
That long have loved your Daughter and your Niece.  
Don Cinthio this, and this Don Charmante,  
The Vice-Roys Nephews, both.——  
Who found as men— 'twas impossible to enjoy 'em,  
And therefore tried this Stratagem.—  Cin. 
Sir, I beseech you, mitigate your Grief,  
Although indeed we are but mortal men,  
Yet we shall Love you,— Serve you, and obey you—  Doct. 
Are not you then the Emperor of the Moon?  
And you the Prince of Thunderland?  Cin. 
There's no such Person, Sir.  
These Stories are the Phantoms of mad Brains,  
To puzzle Fools withal— the Wise laugh at 'em,—  
— Come Sir, you shall no longer be imposed upon.  Doct. 
No Emperor of the Moon,— and no Moon World!  Char. 
Ridiculous Inventions.  
If we'd not loved you, you'd been still imposed on;  
We had brought a Scandal on your Learned Name,  
And all succeeding Ages had despised it.  [He leaps up. Doct. 
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 honoured 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 inspired till now. Be pleasant to repeat your Story, to tell me by what kind degrees you Cozened me—  
I see there's nothing in Philosophy—  [Gravely to himself. 
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.     

EPILOGUE.  To be spoken by Mrs. Cook. 

WIth our old Plays, as with dull Wife it fares,  
To whom you have been married tedious years.  
You Cry— She's wondrous good, it is confessed,  
But still 'tis Chapon Boüillé at the best;  
That constant Dish can never make a Feast:  
Yet the palled Pleasure you must still purste,  
You give so small encouragement for new;  
And who would drudge for such a wretched Age?  
Who want the Bravery, to support one Stage.  
The wiser Wits have now new Measures set,  
And taken up new Trades, that they may haue,  
No more your nice fantastic pleasures serve,  
Your Pimps you pay, but let your Poets starve.  
They long in vain, for better Usage hoped,  
Till quite undone and tired, they dropped and dropped;  
Not one is left will write for thin third day,  
Like desperate Pickeroons, no Prize no Pay;  
And when they've done their best, the Recompense,  
Is, Damn the Sot, his Play wants common Sense.  
Ill natured wits, who can so ill requite  
The Drudging Slaves, who for your, Pleasure write.   

Look back on flourishing Rome, ye proud Ingrates,  
And see how she her thriving Poets treats:  
Wisely she prized 'em at the noblest Rate,  
As necessary Ministers of State,  
And contributions raised to make 'em great.  
They from the public Bank she did maintain,  
And freed from want, they only writ for Fame;  
And were as useful in a City held,  
As formidable Armies in the Field.  
They but a Conquest over Men pursued,  
While these by gentler force the Soul subdued.  
Not Rome in all her happiest Pomp could show  
A greater Caesar than we boast of now;  
Augustus Reigns, but Poets still are low.   

May Caesar live, and while his Mighty Hand  
Is Scattering Plenty over all the Land;  
With God like Bounty recompensing all,  
Some fruitful drops may on the Muse's fall;  
Since honest Pens do his just cause afford  
Equal Advantage with the useful Sword.   
FINIS.