University of Virginia Library

Scena prima.

Enter Medusa and Pamphila.
O Happie is I trust that Doctors soule by whom I learnde,
This famous Arte, and easely by it my liuing earnde.
O that he knew how deere his life and learning was to me,
O yt he could but for his death my griefe and sorrowe see.

pamphila.
Medusa, if I did not feare my honour and my name,
Would soone be lost hereby, and turne my credite into shame.
I would become thy Scholler, but I blush to speake of it,

Medusa.
No Pamphila, for such a mistresse thou art farre vnfit.
What talkst thou of thy name, and honour likely to be lost,
By learning of myne Arte? which should be honord of the moste.
And more esteemde then Phisike.

Pamphila
Why?

Medusa.
That's easy to be proued,
For, as by Phisikes learned skill, diseases be remoued.
So by my cunning, euery smarte that doth afflict the minde,
Is put to chace, for euery griefe, a remedy I finde.

Pamphila.
And haue you any salue for loue?

Medusa.
I haue.

Pamphila.
Whereof is it made?

Medusa.
Of diuers things, simple, and mixte, according to my trade.

Pamphila.
Then if for loue, or mony, you will graunt me my requeste,
Let me once by your cunning see, my mistresse haue some reste.

Medusa.
Whome serue you then?

Pamphila.
Forsooth, I serue mistresse Virginia.

Medusa.
Yet farther, let me craue your name.

Pamphila.
My name is pamphila.

Medusa.
What's her disease?

Pamphila.
Nothing but loue.

Medusa.
How fareth she with it?

Pamphila.
Sad, sicke, and sore, with sorrow pinde, and disposseste of wit.

Medusa.
Whome loueth she?

Pamphila.
Fedele.

Medusa.
And how long hath she bin so?

Pamphila.
I know not, yet I gesse, that she sickned a yeere agoe.

Medusa.
What if I helpe her? tell me who shall please me for my paine?

Pamphila.
My selfe, because vnknowen to her, I seeke her health to gaine.

Medusa.
A louing seruant, goe thy wayes and leaue it all to me.
But harke thee.

Pamphila.
What?

Medusa.
Let me haue passage to her lodging free.
That when she little thinkes thereof, my Medcins I may make,
By vertue of the which, her wounded heart may comfort take.
The lesse she lookes for remedy,
the more is her delight, when t'is obtaynde.

Pamphila.
Then let's be gon.

Medusa.
Content, for it is night.
And yonder comes Fedele with Fortunio hand in hande,
To shunne suspect, they shal not see vs talking here to stāde.

Exit.