Sem. The battle calls,
And he who wears ambition’s spur must ride!
Sol. Ambition! O, you think of naught but war
And glory! Hast thou no heart, Semiramis?
Sem. I’ faith, and love thee with it! (kisses her)
Sol. Trifle not!
Hadst thou a heart thou couldst not live a maid,
So beautiful, and never dream of love!
Thou ’rt some strange thing—
Sem. What, wilt be angry? Come!
I ’ll tell thee all he said—thy Artavan,—
Ay, every word, and how his eyes grew soft
With dimness sweeter than their vanquished light
When thou wert his dear theme!
(They move to curtains. Semiramis stops and listens)
Go in. I ’ll come. (Sola goes in)
Sem. (Listening) Is that a chariot? My father!... Nay!
He ’s safe with Artavan! Whatever comes
His son will be his heart and bear him up!
Safe, safe, Menones, and thy grizzled locks
Shall wear their laurels to an honored grave!
(Noise of approaching chariot)
It is a chariot! Can it be the king?