Semiramis and other plays/Semiramis/Act 4

by Olive Tilford Dargan

ACT IV.

Scene: Within Husak’s tent. Husak, Khosrove, Armenian lords and soldiers.

Husak. Bring in the widow!

(Exeunt officers)

                           Now, my son, thou ’lt see

Assyria at thy feet. Ay, she who scorned

To match her crown with thine, shall low as earth

Cry up for favor!

Khos. Sir, I would not see it!

Hus. Still in that humor? Well, I promise thee

She shall have mercy.

Khos. Mercy, father?

Hus. Ay.

Khos. What wilt thou grant?

Hus. Ask of thy heart,

                 (Khosrove is about to speak) Peace, boy!

For once we ’ll be a father, not a soldier! Wait!

(Khosrove kneels and kisses his father’s hand as Semiramis enters between guards. She is robed and crowned, her arms fettered with golden chains, and holds herself proudly, not looking at Husak. She turns to Khosrove, who watches her eagerly)

Sem. We meet again. Wert thou upon the field?

I saw thee not. Perchance thy father thought

’T were wise to find his health and lead his troops

Lest Love should blunt thy sword!

Hus. By Bel, his sword

Was sharp enough to find the heart of Sumbat,—

Your general!

Sem. Sumbat slain! (Turns to Khosrove) and slain by you!

Khos. I had my choice—to slay him or to die.

Sem. (With bitter scorn) And did the love that makes one prayer to Heaven

Rule in that choice?

Hus. These taunts, Semiramis—

Khos. Nay, father, she has cause to use me so.

Sem. Oh, you confess you played with me! Then, heart,

In with thy scorn for this outbraves thy own!

(Turns away, folding her chained hands on her breast, and stands as if she would speak no more)

Hus. You make no suit for mercy?

Sem. (Turning to him) What! from thee?

Who kill your captives ere your tent is struck,

Nor spare a guard to drive them from the field?

Hus. I grant what I would ask—death before serfdom!

You ’d keep them for your dogs and slaves!

Sem. And when

Am I to die? Why breach thy custom now?

Hus. We like your spirit, but push not so far,

Or we shall break the bounds we ’ve set ourselves.

Have you not found us gracious to your rank?

You look not like a prisoner!

Sem. No thanks

For that! This robe and crown, these chains of gold

Are compliments that Husak pays himself,

Proclaiming him a royal victory,

Though not a royal victor!

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!

(Semiramis looks down on Khosrove, then turns to Husak)

Sem. Thank, thanks,

Old man, for making me once more myself!

For by the blood that storms through all my veins

I know I ’m still a queen! Now all the pride

That lives in my lost crown, and all the scorn

Should meet thy fawning suit, be in my words,—

I do refuse your son! Assyria

Shall owe her throne to none!

(Khosrove springs up, trampling the robe)

Hus. Now thou wilt rise!

A prince who might have gone with gods to wive

Nor bated them in choice! This to my face!

I, Husak, fawn on woman! Out with her!

Drag her to death! To instant death! Out! out!

(Guards approach Semiramis)

Khos. To instant death?

Hus. (Looks searchingly at him.) Ha! ha! Not yet! She ’s thine!

Choose thy revenge! Have now thy will!

Khos. Thou ’lt grant it?

Hus. Ay, ay, whate’er thou wouldst!

Khos. She is thy captive.

Hus. I make her thine! My conqueror’s right I yield

To thee!

Khos. Dost swear it?

Hus. Doubt me not! I swear!

Khos. By Belus’ star?

Hus. By Belus’ star, whose beams

Are death to breakers of an oath! We ask

This crown—no more. (Takes crown from Khosrove’s hand) You pause. Stand not, my son.

Thy vengeance waits. Do what thou wilt with her,

We ’ll question not.

(Khosrove strikes off the chains of Semiramis)

Khos. Go free to Nineveh.

(Husak stands in amazed silence, then understands and burns with speechless anger. At last he speaks slowly with intense wrath)

Hus. All madmen in my kingdom die! Bind him!

(Guards bind Khosrove)

Sem. Die? No! O, sir, you would not slay your son?

Hus. This loathsome thing is not my flesh!

Sem. Thy son!

Hus. We have no son. Armenia has no heir.

Bear him away!

Sem. (Holding out her hands) My chains! Dost think I ’ll owe

My life to him? Thou know’st not yet my pride!

Bind me and set him free!

Hus. (Thunderingly) No! Husak breaks

No oath! We’re not a god as Nineveh,

And bold to mock at Heaven!

Khos. (To Semiramis) I knew the price,

And chose to pay it. ’Tis my wish. Farewell!

(Guards bear him out)

Hus. (To Semiramis) Go free to Nineveh!

Sem. No! O, kill me!

Hus. Nay, go! But go alone—on foot—and through

A hostile country!

Sem. Ah!

Hus. That subject who

Shall give thee food or drink dies in the act!

Proclaim it, all!... Come, friends, we ’ve not yet held

The feast of victory. The slighted gods

Will snatch away their favor if we long

Delay our revels. Though we ’ll miss one face,

(Suppresses a groan)

We ’ll know this much—there ’ll be no traitor there!

(All leave the tent but Semiramis)

Sem. Alone ... on foot ... and through a hostile country!

I ’ll overtake thee, Khosrove, ere thou ’st reached

Thy throne among the stars! Thou goest from love,

And wilt look back and weep from every cloud;

I on thy track shall pause not till our wings

Stir the same air and lock in kisses flying!

... So pay my scorn? How then hadst loved if heart

Had brought to heart its swelling measure? Then

Our rosy hours had been the pick of time,

And hung a flower ’mong withered centuries

When every age had brought its reckoning in!

O, why will we, some cubits high, pluck at

The sun and moon, when we have that within

Makes us the soul and centre of Heaven itself?

Ambition, thou hast played away my crown

And life. That I forgive thee, but not this—

Thou ’st robbed me of the memory of his kiss.

... Go, world! The conqueror’s trump that closed my ears

Unto the angel in a lover’s voice

Dies to a moan that fills but one lone heart.

And soon ’tis silent. Ah, though woman build

Her house of glory to the kissing skies,

And the proud sun her golden rafters lay,

And on her turrets pause discoursing gods,

Let her not dare forget the stanchion truth—

Immortal writ in every mortal face—

“Thou art the wife and mother of the world!”

(Sees Khosrove’s cloak upon the floor, and kneels by it, taking it in her hands)

My Khosrove!... Methought a god struck off my chains

So strong and fair he seemed, yet strove to hide

The beauty of his act, as might a star

Shrink in its own sweet light!

(Buries her face in the folds of the cloak)

                               O, noble prince,

I might have kissed thy lips and not thy garment!

(Rises and wraps the cloak about her. Spurns with her foot her own robe which has been left trampled)

Thou purple rag, lie there! Love’s vesture shall

Enfold me as I go!

     (Starts out) Alone ... on foot ...

But I ’ve not far to journey. Foes are kind....

The first one met ... well, I will thank him!... Cries?

It is the feast. A man may feast who had—

But has no son!... (Startled) ’Tis not the feast!... I know

That noise confused—hoarse shouts—shrieks—pawing steeds—

And rumbling chariots! Those are the tones

Of battle! O, the bloody work! ’Tis war!

Did it delight me once?... Assyrian cries!

My troops! my troops! They ’ve rallied! How they cheer!

What brave heart leads them on?

(Cries come nearer)

                               Poor creatures, they

Would save me knowing not I died with Khosrove.

I will not live—

(The rear of the tent is torn away by an onslaught. Assyrian troops enter, led by Artavan)

Art. Semiramis!

Sem. My brother!

You live!

Art. And you!

Sem. Praise Heaven there is one

Will comfort my sad kingdom!

Art. Nay, all ’s well!

The death of Ninus freed me from my prison;

I gathered troops and pushed hard after you,

To hear you had been taken; then I planned

This rescue. Thank great Belus, I ’m in time!

Sem. In time? Nay, thou ’rt too late!

Art. Too late? When thou

Dost live?

Sem. I live? No! Thou ’rt deceived!

Art. O Heaven!

... She ’s dazed! Her troubles have bewildered her.

All ’s well, my sister! Husak has been taken.

Thy crown itself is in our hands ... The crown!

(A soldier hands it to him)

You see ’tis safe. (She takes it idly)

Sem. A crown. For such a thing

Wouldst give thy Sola?

Art. She is dear to me,

But ay, by Heaven, I would!

Sem. You would? I know

A greater thing than this.

Art. What, sister?

Sem. (Letting the crown fall) Love.

Art. O, she is crazed! This is some evil work!

Bring in the captive Husak! He shall speak!

Sem. O, brother, once I thought thy love was truest

That ever husband gave to wife, but now

It showeth dark against my lover’s truth!

Art. Semiramis ... sweet sister ... What dost mean?

... I ’ll know the cause of this! Call in the prince

With Husak!

Sem. Prince?

Art. Ay ... Khosrove, whom we found

In chains—I know not why—and I unbound him,

Recalling how he saved my life,—but now

I ’ll know what thou hast suffered at his hands!

Sem. You found him bound? I can not hear—or see!

Art. She swoons—she dies—O, true, we are too late!

Sem. No, brother, thou ’rt in time! I live! I live!

I am Semiramis! Give me my crown!

Now this small circlet seems to me the world,

And it is mine—to wear—or give away!

Is ’t not, good friends?

Voices. Ay, ’tis!

(Enter soldiers with Husak and Khosrove, Husak in fetters)

Sem. King Husak, hear!

Assyria and Armenia should be friends,

Joining true hands to bring a happy peace

O’er all the East. And in that dearest hope

I free thee. (Unbinds him) But thy son, the prince, must be

Again my prisoner.

Hus. O, queen, I ’ve spent

One childless hour, and rather would I die

Than know another. Take my life for his.

Art. Dost thou forget, Semiramis, that once

He saved thy brother?

Sem. I remember all,

But will not change his doom. He must be bound,

Nor from my fetters may he go alive.

These are his chains—(Putting her arms about his neck) his prison deathless love,

And here I pray that he will wear this crown,

And hold with me the great Assyrian throne!

... (calls) My chariot!

Khos. My queen! my queen!

Sem. Wilt thou

Consent?

Khos. (Kisses her lips) I answer here.

(The royal chariot appears, rear. They step in)

Sem. (Giving the reins to Khosrove) To Nineveh!

(curtain)