Hus. What! Dar’st fling
Into my face that the Armenian kings
Rule unanointed? Dost think that I would sue
To Nineveh or Babylon for leave
To take my kingly emblems from their hands?
But thou—thou shalt owe thine to me! I wear
No proud insignia of the gods, and yet
My hands shall strip and clothe thee as I will!
(Tears off her robe and crown)
Khos. Father!
Hus. By sun and moon—
Khos. O, sir—
Hus. Her pride
Insults my mercy, but I ’ll keep my word.
Take these. (Gives him the robe and crown)
Now, woman, learn that Husak—ay,
Husak, the Fierce, can pity fallen glory!
Stand forth, my son! Look, captive, on this prince!
A man not made to sue to less than gods!
Make him thy husband-king, and from his hands
Receive thy purple and remount thy throne!
(All are astonished. Khosrove shrinks back in shame, which Semiramis misunderstands)
Sem. Methinks this lover makes no ardent suit,
King Husak! Why, the sun has not twice set
Since he did swear me dearer than my crown,
And now the crown ’s too much if my poor self
Must burden it!
(Khosrove kneels before her, holding up the crown)
Hus. Rise, sir! You give, not sue!