Art. (Bowing with scornful ceremony)
Your majesty!
Nin. Ha! ha! His sister! Then
Thou wouldst be brother to the king?
Art. (Bitterly) My hope
Runs not so high, and even to her I now
Give up all claim. I ’ll own no blood but that
In my own veins keeps honor! So farewell!
Nin. Be not so fast! Whence comest thou, my man?
Art. From Husak’s camp. When he received thy word
His son should go to him, he set me free.
Sem. Oh, set you free!
Art. And now, O king—
Sem. (Seeing that the king is impressed) My lord,
If he came from the camp how has he passed
The city gates?
Nin. Ah ... true ... he could not pass.
Sem. (Mockingly) Perhaps he scaled the hundred feet of wall,
And crossed the rampart ’neath the arrow watch
Of towers eighty-score!