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?
Scar. 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 snatch’d 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 flat Treason if it should be known; but thus unseen, and as wise Politicians shou’d, I take survey of all: This is the Statesman’s Peeping-hole, thorow which he steals the Secrets of his King, and seems to wink at distance.
Scar. The very Key-hole, Sir, thorow 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 ought I know, for he looks not like the People of the lower Orb.
Doct. Ha! and that may be; wait on him in.
[Exit Scar.
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. Most reverend Bard, thrice welcome. [Salutes him low.
Char. The Fame of your great Learning, Sir, and Virtue is known with Joy to the renown’d Society.
Doct. 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. I must confess the Count of Gabalis renders it plain, from Writ divine and humane, there are such friendly and intelligent 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 Sylphs. 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. Most certain, Sir, Man was to have been immortaliz’d by the Love and Conversation of these charming Sylphs and Nymphs, and Women by the Gnomes and Salamanders, and to have stock’d the World with Demi-Gods, such as at this Day inhabit the Empire of the Moon.
Doct. Most admirable Philosophy and Reason! — But do these Sylphs and Nymphs appear in Shapes?
Char. The most beautiful of all the Sons and Daughters of the Universe: Fancy, Imagination is not half so charming: And then so soft, so kind! but none but the Caballa and their Families are blest with their divine Addresses. Were you but once admitted to that Society —
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 Rosycrusian order. — Please you to make a Tryal?
Doct. As how, Sir, I beseech you?
Char. If you be thorowly purg’d from Vice, the Opticles of your Sight will be so illuminated, that glancing through this Telescope, you may behold one of these lovely Creatures, that people the vast Region of the Air.
Doct. Sir, you oblige profoundly.
Char. Kneel then, and try your strength of Virtue. Sir, — Keep your Eye fix’d 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 Nymph on it, and a Light behind it; that as he brings it, it shews 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. — Astonish’d, ravish’d 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 immortalize — 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, inamour’d on Numa Pompilius, came to him invisible to all Eyes else, and gave him all his Wisdom and Philosophy. Zoroaster, Trismegistus, Apuleius, Aquinius, Albertus Magnus, Socrates and Virgil had their Zilphid, which the Foolish call’d 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 doat upon.
Doct. But, Sir, I have a Niece and Daughter which I love equally, were it not possible they might be immortaliz’d?
Char. No doubt on’t, Sir, if they be pure and chaste.
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 Moment’s Prayer, 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 wou’d 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, though a King, ‘twixt Love and Honour.
Doct. It were too much to know the Mortal, Sir?
Char. ’Tis yet unknown, Sir, to the Caballists, who now are using all their Arts to find her, and serve his Majesty; but now my great Affair deprives me of you: To morrow, Sir, I’ll wait on you again; and now I’ve try’d your 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.
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. Scaramouch, I have, for thy singular Wit and Honesty, always had a Tenderness for thee above that of a Master to a Servant.
Scar. I must confess it, Sir.
Doct. Thou hast Virtue and Merit that deserves much.
Scar. 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 design’d for them, if we can keep ‘em from the sight of Man.
Scar. The sight of Man, Sir!
Doct. Ay, and the very Thoughts of Man.
Scar. 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.
Scar. Doubt me not, Sir, and I hope your Reverence will reward my faithful Services with Mopsophil, your Daughter’s Governante, who is rich, and has long had my Affection, Sir.
[Harlequin peeping, cries Oh Traitor!
Doct. Set not thy Heart on transitory Mortal, there’s better things in store — besides, I have promis’d her to a Farmer for his Son. — Come in with me, and bring the Telescope.
[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, abandon’d by the false fair One? If I have Honour, I must die with Rage; Reproaching gently, and complaining madly. It is resolv’d, I’ll hang my self — No, when did I ever hear of a Hero that hang’d him self? — No, ’tis the Death of Rogues. What if I drown my self? — No, Useless Dogs and Puppies are drown’d; a Pistol or a Caper on my own Sword wou’d look more nobly, but that I have a natural Aversion to Pain. Besides, it is as vulgar as Rats-bane, or the slicing of the Weasand. No, I’ll die a Death uncommon, and leave behind me an eternal Fame. I have somewhere read an Author, either antient or modern, of a Man that laugh’d to death. — I am very ticklish, and am resolv’d to die that Death. — Oh, Mopsophil, my cruel Mopsophil! [Pulls off his Hat, Sword and Shoes. And now, farewel 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 Antick Leaps and Skips, at last falls down as dead.
Enter Scaramouch.
Scar. 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 wou’d rob me of my Honour?
Scar. Honour, why I thought thou’dst been dead.
Ha. Why, so I was, and the most agreeably dead.
Scar. I came to bemoan with thee the mutual loss of our Mistress.
Har. I know it, Sir, I know it, and that thou art as false as she: Was’t not a Covenant between us, that neither shou’d take advantage of the other, but both shou’d have fair play, and yet you basely went to undermine me, and ask her of the Doctor; but since she’s gone, I scorn to quarrel for her — But let’s like loving Brothers, hand in hand, leap from some Precipice into the Sea.
Scar. 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 hither, and after saying our Prayers —
Har. Prayers! I never heard of a dying Hero that ever pray’d.
Scar. Well, I’ll not stand with you for a Trifle — Being come up, I’ll open the Casement, take you by the Heels, and sling 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 Atchievement’s great and new; but now I think on’t, I’m resolv’d to hear my Sentence from the Mouth of the perfidious Trollop, for yet I cannot credit it.
I’ll to the Gipsy, though I venture banging,
To be undeceiv’d, ’tis hardly worth the hanging.
[Exeunt.