University of Virginia Library

Scena sexta.

Enter Cariclea, she lieth downe upon the bed indispos'd, her kinsfolk's weeping about her, then enter Caricles and Calasiris.
Caric.
My child, my daughter deare, tell me thy father
The cause of thy disease, have a good heart,
This wise man Calasiris is requested
By me to finde some remedy to cure thee,
And he can well performe it as a man
Of heavenly knowledge, and a sacred priest.
My most endeered friend, you shall doe well
To suffer him to exercise his art
And holy spels for your recovery,
For I perceive thou art ore-look'd my child.

Caric.
Sir tis my duty to obey your will
In all things you command me.

Calas.
Then depart
Deare Caricles, and all the rest avoyd
The roome, we must be private here together,
Fetch me a little Laurell and a stoole
Having three feet, some fire and frankincense,
And let no man disturbe us till I call.
It shall be done forthwith, heavens crowne your worke.

Exeunt all but Cariclea, and Calasiris.
Calasiris begins to burne frankincense, to mumble with his lips, to lay lawrell upon her from top to toe, to gape & make strange gestures, while Cariclea, wagged her head oft and smiled.
Caric.
Father you are deceived in my griefe,
You cannot ghesse at it for all your art.

Calas.
Nay daughter say not so, but cheere your selfe,
For what doth vex you is a malady
Common, and easie to be cur'd by me;
Thou wert o're-look'd not onely at the pompe
Of Pirrhus funerall rites, but at the race
In armour too when you were overseer,
And gave the prize unto the conquerour;
Theagenes was he that overlook'd you,
Whose wanton eye was alwaies fixt upon
Your splendant beauty object of his sight.

Caric.
Whether he daign'd to looke on me or no
Apollo have him in his custody;
But whence is he, and what's his pedegree?

Calas.
He's a Thessalian borne, and as you hear'd
Descended from Achilles, who although
He have bewitch'd you with an envious eye,
He suffers more than you by the reflex
Of your Sun-burning eyes upon his heart.

Caric.
Why do you wrongfully accuse the man
Of witchcraft, who hath done no harme at all,
There's no such matter, tis some other sicknesse.

Calas.
Then tell me daughter, and conceale it not
If you desire to find a remedy,
I am no stranger to you but your friend,
and old acquaintance of your loving father,
I am of your profession too, a priest,
I'le keepe your counsell, and be bound by oath
To helpe you what I can; all griefes are cur'd
In the beginning, but if left alone
At length they grow incurable; declare
Your minde at full.

Caric.
I love Theagines.

Calasiris.
I knew so much before, he loves you too,
I'le be your faithfull friend and true assistant.

Enter Caricles, with Acestinus a skilfull physitian.
Caric.
Deere friend what have you done? what newes have
You to tell me that is good?

Calasir.
All shall be well
Cariclea shall be heal'd to morrow morne
Of her infirmitie, I now will leave you
To prosecute my busines for her health.

Caric.
Adiew deere friend, the gods reward thy paine.
Heere Acestinus, lies the sicklie patient
Exit Calasiris.
You are well read in physicke, feele her pulse
And give your wise opinion.

Acestin.
fairest maid
Where doth your paine lie most?

She turn'd her face from him, and repeated with a loud voice this verse of Homer,
Achilles is the bravest man of all the Greekish rout.

Acest.
Her state of heart I finde Priest Caricles,
My labour is in vaine, no physicke can
Restore her to her health.

Caric.
The gods forbid,
Why say you so, must my deare daughter die
Without all hope of her recovery?

Acest.
Peace make not such adoe, but here me speake.
Our art sir, doth extend no further then
He drawes Caricles aside.
To cure distempered bodies, if the mind
Diseased be without the bodies sicknesse,
We have no helpe for that, the maids disease
Lies in the mind, her bodie's in good state,
No humours doe abound there, no headach,
No fever burnes her, all is free within.

Caric.
What then should be the cause of these her fits,
Utter what you perceive doth trouble her,
I doe beseech you, skilfull Acestinus.

Acestin.
Tis love doth trouble her, which who knowes not
Is an affection and griefe of the heart,
Doe you not see her eyes swolne in her head
Rouling one every side, her visage pale,
Her halfe distraction, how she uttereth
What ere comes in her minde, and sleepes but little;
In briefe I doe perceive that she hath lost
The moisture of her body, and indeed
Just amplitude thereof, my counsell is
You finde her out a man and that with speed.
Exit Acestinus.

Caric.
A man, heavens grant she be enclin'd that way,
Then Calasiris hath plaid well his part;
How fares my daughter now, what sicknesse hast thou?
Shall I send for more Doctors yet?

Caric.
Tis needlesse,
Send none to me but Calasiris onely,
He hath the art to ease me, and none else.

Caric.
Ile send him to thee, sleepe Cariclea,
Untill he come: if Alcamenes love
Possesse her heart, thanks to the gods above.

Exeunt.