Doct. Heard it, yes, Fool,—’tis the Musick 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, saw’st 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 Antick Habits.
Ela. Sir, we are dress’d as you commanded us, what is your farther Pleasure?
Doct. It well becomes the Honour you’re design’d for, this Night to wed two Princes—come with me and know your happy Fate.
[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.