o Mortal has receiv'd
This sixty hundred years.

_Doct_. Hum--say you so, Sir; no Emperor ever descend this sixty hundred
years? [_Looks sad_.
--Was I deceiv'd 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 design'd 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 whisper'd, 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 conjectur'd, Sir,--some of the Cabalists 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 Cabalists, but none else.

_Doct_. Then know--last Night, my Daughter and my Niece were entertain'd
by those illustrious Heroes.

_Char_. Who, Sir, the Emperor, and Prince his Cousin?

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

_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
dress'd, perfum'd, and clean.

_Doct_. It shall be all perform'd, Sir.

_Char_. Be modest, Sir, and humble in your Elevation; for nothing shews