Chrysanthe’s house

[HYAKINTHOS reclines, reading. Enter KLEITOS.]

KLE: You, you, sirrah, where’s my daughter?

HYA: Within her chambers rests my wife, consum’d of an ague. The doctor attends her.

KLE: Alas! A fortnight passed since ill she fell.
What paper were you reading?

HYA: A note of love, penned a month since. I would have you read it. It fits the father as well as the husband. A gift of words has she.

KLE: True, my boy.

[Enter DOCTOR.]

    I would know more. First let me talk with this philosopher. Sirrah, how does my daughter?

DOC: She burns with fever, my lord, and drifts between sleep and wake.

KLE: Made she no verbal question?

DOC: No though she knew me since a child. Into this world did I draw her and mean to keep her in’t.

KLE: Sir, you speak nobly.

[Enter CHRYSANTHE.]

CHR: My sickness grows upon me. Look, sir, I bleed. Away, and let me die.

[She dies.]

KLE: No ague this, sirrah, but deathly poison. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!

[Exeunt omnes.]