[Soliman's Bashaw brings to him the two fairest captives from Rhodes.]
Soliman. This present pleaseth more than all the rest;
And, were their garments turn'd from black to white,
I should have deem'd them Juno's goodly swans,
Or Venus' milkwhite doves, so mild they are,
And so adorn'd with beauty's miracle.
Here, Brusor, this kind turtle shall be thine;
Take her, and use her at thy pleasure.
But this kind turtle is for Soliman,
That her captivity may turn to bliss.
Fair looks, resembling Phoebus' radiant beams;
Smooth forehead, like the table of high Jove;
Small pencill'd eyebrows, like two glorious rainbows;
Quick lamplike eyes, like heav'n's two brightest orbs;
Lips of pure coral, breathing ambrosy;
Cheeks, where the rose and lily are in combat;
Neck whiter than the snowy Apennines:
A sweeter creature nature never made;
Love never tainted Soliman till now.
. . . . . . . . .
[Perseda, however, will not yield to his amorous proposals.]
Soliman. Then kneel thee down,
And at my hands receive the stroke of death,
Doom'd to thyself by thine own wilfulness.
Perseda. Strike, strike; thy words pierce deeper than thy blows.
Soliman. Brusor, hide her; for her looks withhold me.
[Then Brusor hides her with a veil.]
O Brusor, thou hast not hid her lips;
For there sits Venus with Cupid on her knee,
And all the graces smiling round about her,
So craving pardon, that I cannot strike.
Brusor. Her face is cover'd over quite, my lord.