Tell me, man, what madness brought thee hither?
Erastus.
Thy virtuous fame and mine own misery.
Soliman.
What misery? speak; for though you Christians
Account our Turkish race but barbarous,
Yet have we ears to hear a just complaint,
And justice to defend the innocent,
And pity to such as are in poverty,
And liberal hands to such as merit bounty.
Brusor.
My gracious sov'reign, as this knight
Seems by grief tied to silence,
So his deserts bind me to speak for him:
This is Erastus, the Rhodian worthy,
The flow'r of chivalry and courtesy.
Soliman.
Is this the man that thou hast so described?
Stand up, fair knight, that what my heart desires,
Mine eyes may view with pleasure and delight.
This face of thine should harbour no deceit.
Erastus, I'll not yet urge to know the cause
That brought thee hither, lest
With the discourse thou shouldst afflict thyself,
And cross the fulness of my joyful passion.
But that we are assured,
Heav'n's brought thee hither for our benefit,
Know thou that Rhodes, nor all that Rhodes contains,
Shall win thee from the side of Soliman,
If we but find thee well-inclin'd to us.
Erastus.