_King._ ’Tis true; whilst I visit _Theorbeo_, get the Performers in readiness; let the Musick be _Astartus_, ’tis the Language of Angels, the Eccho of Heaven; and who shall declare the Sense to Mortals? Those Sounds inspire the Intellect, and strengthen the Soul; they animate and arm the Mind; raise to the highest Œconomy of the Universe, and lure me quite from Care; then finely turning the Keys of Paradise, they waft me from Orb to Orb, and make me, thro’ divine Opticks, see, the radiant Splendors of bright shining Worlds. [_Ex. King and Officer._ [_Musick plays solemn. The Scene discovers_ Theorbeo_’s Statue in a Grove_. _Enter_ King. _King._ I could lay me down, and dissolve my Body by thee, and make my Soul to swim away to thine in Floods of Tears: Oh _Theorbeo_, thy Body was inhabited once by all things fine, Faculties that rous’d aloft within, ready to heave up the Sky, and force themselves to Heaven; full of an humble Grandeur, Resolution, Ambition divine, that mighty he, that wings the Soul: ’tis impossible that so much Greatness should ever cease to live; oh here let me stay, till thy Breath of eternal Raptures, shall descend from Heaven in Harmony; when thy bright Spirit, like the Sun, shall glance from the Sphere, I’ll leap up in Extasy, and meet thee in the Air; when we descend, I’ll stand to pause, to gaze, admire, rejoice and weep; I’ll parry thy Beams, run into thy Rays, and clasp thee in my Arms; if I become blind; but now sleepy Nature calls to rest, and as our Bodies slumbering sympathize, may our Souls in extatick Visions meet. [_Enter_ Seringo _and sings, and Exit_. _Enter_ Theorbeo _and_ Dologodelmo. _Theor._ She resembles the Guardian Angel of a Man, when his Pupil to _Pluto_ and to Vice is given; then just like her, he sings, he mourns, and sends the Muse to Heaven. _King._ Now have I pass’d my _Cademore_’s World, and enter _Theorbeo_’s Kingdom; is it thus we pass from lasting Sleep, and wak’d to Life by a Choir of Angels? This inimitable Sound makes all my Nerves to creep; the chanting Harmony thrills my Veins; the superlative Sweetness of the Musick raises me from the Dust of Death. [_He rises and sees_ Theorbeo. Oh _Theorbeo_, I am like a Cœlestial inspired Man, my Heart is full of Love, and overflows with Joy; is it lasting, or will it vanish? To-day or ever? Momentary or eternal? declare those blooming Thoughts; a Pearl and Heavenly Mystery lodge within thy Eyes, ripe with Anity, appris’d with Tidings from on high; oh tell to me the Case of separate Souls; or in the Rapidity of thy Career, catch me away in a divine Transport, I long to touch thee; may I touch thee? _Theor._ Yes, you may. _Dolo._ Will your Majesty give me leave to explain the Mystery? _King._ Speak _Godelmo_, for I long to hear.