[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 falls on his Face, the rest bow very low as they pass.  They make signs to Keplair.

Kep.  The Emperor wou’d 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 Splendor of his Majesty confounds me.

Kep.  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 Musick plays again from the end of the Song.

Doct.  Shall I not have the Joy to hear their heavenly Voices, Sir?

Kep.  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 Delphick Oracles.

Doct.  Any way, so I may hear the Sense of what they wou’d say.

Kep.  No doubt you will—­But see the Emperor commands by Signs his Foreigners to dance.

[Soft Musick changes.

[A very Antick Dance.  The Dance ended, the Front Scene draws
off, and shows a Temple, with an Altar, one speaking through a
Stentraphon from behind it.  Soft Musick plays the while.

Kep.  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 Daughter’s 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 enjoy’d her,
Her own ambitious Flame destroy’d her. 
His Charms too fierce for Flesh and Blood,
She dy’d 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 shou’d 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.