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These, Sir, when in Conjunction with Mortals, beget immortal Races; such as the first-born Man, which had continu'd so, had the first Man ne'er doated on a Woman. Doct. I am of that opinion, Sir; Man was not made for Woman. Char.
I thought so too, but they are disappear'd, and the wing'd Chariot's fled. Enter Keplair and Galileus. Bell. See, Sir, they approach. Kep. Most reverend Sir, we, from the upper World, thus low salute you Keplair and Galileus we are call'd, sent as Interpreters to Great Iredonozor, the Emperor of the Moon, who is descending. Doct.
The king retained Xavier at Lisbon, at the request of Xavier himself; and the father wrote a letter of excuse to the doctor of Navarre, who had written two to him full of tenderness and friendship. As that doct&r was unsatisfied with that kind of life, which his nephew had embraced, so Xavier resolved him, on that point, in this manner.
Fame, Sir, has done me too much Honour, to bear my Name to the renown'd 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 Intelligence 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.
Enter Scaramouch bare, bowing before Charmante, dress'd in a strange fantastical Habit, with Harlequin; salutes the Doctor. Char. Doctor Baliardo, most learned Sir, all Hail! Hail from the great Caballa of Eutopia. Doct. Char. The Fame of your great Learning, Sir, and Virtue is known with Joy to the renown'd Society. Doct.
I humbly kiss your Hands, most learned Sir. 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. Scar. 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.
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 shew himself in Glory. An Honour, Sir, no Mortal has receiv'd This sixty hundred years. Doct. Char.
Enter the Doctor and Peter with a Light. Scar. Bless me, Sir! Is it you or your Ghost? Doct. He cries. Scar. What d'ye mean, Sir? what d'ye mean? Doct. Sirrah, must I stand waiting your Leisure, while you are roguing here? 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.
No, no, Sir, he comes to impose the grossest Lye upon you, that ever was heard of. Enter Pedro with others, with a Blanket. They put Harlequin into it, and toss him. Har. Hold, hold, I'll confess all, rather than indure it. Doct. Hold, what will you confess, Sir. Scar. That he's the greatest Impostor in Nature.
Parts and Merit! what's that? a Livery, or the handsome tying a Cravat; for the great Men prefer none but their Foot-men and 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 Devil's in him for hard Questions. I am a Neapolitan, Sir? Doct.
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