SCENE IV.

Assur, Cedar.

Assur: Obey! I blush to think how long already I have obeyed: O insupportable! But say, hast thou succeeded, are the seeds Of hatred sown in secret through the realm? Will they spring up into a fruitful harvest Of discord, and rebellion?

Cedar: All is well: The people, long deluded by the arts And dazzling glory of Sémiramis, At length have lost their idle veneration: No longer chained to silence, they demand A successor: each lover of his country Calls for a master, and looks up to thee.