Shumakim: [Balancing himself before Rakhaz in pretended admiration.]
O wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, and three curable, therefore he must recover as it were, by three to one. Rakhaz, do you know that you are a marvelous man?
Rakhaz:
Yes, I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge.
Shumakim:
Too modest, for in knowing this you know more than any other in Damascus!
[Enter, from the right, Saballidin in armour: from the left, Tsarpi with her attendants, among whom is Ruahmah.]
Hazael:
Here is Saballidin, we'll question him;
He was enflamed by Naaman's wild words,
And rode with him to battle. Give us news,
Of your great captain! Is he safe and well?
When will he come? Or will he come at all?
[All gather around him listening eagerly.]
Saballidin:
He comes but now, returning from the field
Where he hath gained a crown of deathless fame!
Three times he led the charge; three times he fell
Wounded, and the Assyrians beat us back.
Yet every wound was but a spur to urge
His valour onward. In the last attack
He rode before us as the crested wave
That leads the flood; and lo, our enemies
Were broken like a dam of river-reeds.
The flying King encircled by his guard
Was lodged like driftwood on a little hill.
Then Naaman, who led our foremost band
Of whirlwind riders, hammered through the hedge
Of spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke.
“Take back this gift,” he cried; and shattered it
On Shalmaneser's helmet. So the fight
Dissolved in universal rout; the King,
His chariots and his horsemen fled away;
Our captain stood the master of the field,
And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings,
First to the King, report of this great triumph.
[Shouts of joy and applause.]
Ruahmah: [Coming close to Saballidin.]
But what of him who won it? Fares he well?
My mistress would receive some word of him.
Saballidin:
Hath she not heard?