Men. We must fly!
Sem. Fly! Never!
Men. (Rising) Come!
The chariot! The king will leave my race
No blood on earth!
Sem. If it be coward’s blood
’Tis better lost!
Men. Come, come! We yet can fly!
Sem. Back to the battle! There I ’ll go with thee!
Men. I can not! Oh, the terror ’s here—here—here!
It clutches at my heart!
Sem. Tear out thy heart
And keep thy honor whole!
(He falls on the couch, shaken with suffering. She kneels by him pleading passionately)
Sem. Up, father, up!
You must go back! You know not what you ’ve done!
Our Artavan—