Nurse
Thessala, now tell me true, is not this a deceitful ill, to charm
and torment me both at once? I do not see how I can tell whether
this is a disease or not. Nurse, tell me now its name, nature,
and character. But understand well that I have no desire to be
cured of it, for my distress is very dear to me." Thessala, who
was very wise about love and its symptoms knows full well from
what she hears that it is love which is tormenting her; the
tender, endearing terms she uses are certain proof that she is in
love, for all other woes are hard to bear, except that alone
which comes from love; but love transforms its bitterness into
sweetness and joy, then often transforms them back again. The
nurse, who was expert in this matter, thus replies to her: "Have
no fear, for I will tell you at once the name of your malady.
You told me, I believe, that the pain which you feel seems rather
to be joy and health: now of such a nature is love-sickness, for
in it, too, there is joy and bliss. You are in love, then, as I
can prove to you, for I find no pleasure in any malady save only
in love. All other sickness is always bad and horrible, but love
is sweet and peaceable. You are in love; of that I am sure, nor
do I see any wrong in that. But I shall consider it very wrong,
if through some childish folly you conceal from me your heart.
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