[_The Scene in the Front draws off, and shews the Hill of_ Parnassus; _a noble large Walk of Trees leading to it, with eight or ten Negroes upon Pedestals, ranged on each side of the Walks. Next_ Keplair _and_ Galileus _descend on each side, opposite to each other, in Chariots, with Perspectives in their Hands, as viewing the Machine of the Zodiack. Soft Musick plays still. _Doct_. Methought I saw the Figure of two Men descend from yonder Cloud on yonder Hill. _Ela_. 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. [_The_ Doctor _rises and bows_. _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_. Most reverend Bards--profound Philosophers--thus low I bow to pay my humble Gratitude. _Kep_. The Emperor, Sir, salutes you, and your fair Daughter. _Gal_. And, Sir, the Prince of _Thunderland_ salutes you, and your fair Neice. _Doct_. Thus low I fall to thank their Royal Goodness. [_Kneels. They take him up_. _Bell_. Came you, most reverend Bards, from the Moon World? _Kep_. Most lovely Maid, we did. _Doct_. May I presume to ask the manner how? _Kep_. By Cloud, Sir, through the Regions of the Air, down to the fam’d _Parnassus_; thence by Water, along the River _Helicon_, the rest by Post upon two wing’d Eagles. _Doct_. Sir, are there store of our World inhabiting the Moon? _Kep_. Oh, of all Nations, Sir, that lie beneath it in the Emperor’s Train! Sir, you will behold abundance; look up and see the Orbal World descending; observe the Zodiack, Sir, with her twelve Signs. [_Next the Zodiack descends, a Symphony playing all the while; when it is landed, it delivers the twelve Signs: Then the Song, the Persons of the Zodiack being the Singers. After which, the Negroes dance and mingle in the_ Chorus. A Song for the Zodiack. _Let murmuring Lovers no longer repine, But their Hearts and their Voices advance; Let the Nymphs and the Swains in the kind Chorus join, And the Satyrs and Fauns in a Dance. Let Nature put on her Beauty of May, And the Fields and the Meadows adorn; Let the Woods and the Mountains resound with the Joy, And the Echoes their Triumph return_. Chorus. _For since Love wore his Darts, And Virgins grew Coy; Since these wounded Hearts, And those cou’d destroy, There ne’er was more Cause for your Triumphs and Joy.