Arsaces: If he requires my life, I’ll give it him: But where is Ninias? thou speakest naught of him: Thou hast not told me how his father gives To me his kingdom and his queen.

Oroes: To thee His queen! O heaven, to thee Sémiramis Be given! Arsaces, the important hour Which I had promised thee is come, when thou Shalt know thy fate, and this abandoned woman.

Arsaces: Great gods!

Oroes: ’Twas she who murdered Ninus.

Arsaces: She, Saidst thou, the queen?

Oroes: Assur, that foul disgrace Of human nature, Assur gave the poison.

Arsaces: I’m not surprised at Assur’s cruelty, But that a wife, a queen, and such a queen, The pride of sovereigns, the delight of nations, That she should e’er be guilty of a crime So horrible! it passes all belief. How can such virtues and such guilt as hers Subsist together!

Oroes: How indeed! the question Is worthy of thy noble heart: but now ’Twere needless to dissemble, every moment Is big with some new secret, horrible To nature, who already whispers to thee Her soft complaints; thy generous heart, I see, Spite of thyself, is shocked, and mourns within thee: But wonder not that Ninus from the tomb Indignant rises on this seat of guilt; He comes to break the horrid nuptial tie, Woven by the furies, and expose to light Unpunished crimes; to save his son from incest: He speaks to, he expects thee: know thy father, For thou art Ninias, and the queen’s thy mother.

Arsaces: Thou hast o’erpowered me in one dreadful moment With such repeated wonders, that I stand Astonished, and the night of death surrounds me. Am I his son, and can it be?

Oroes: Thou art: Ninus, the morn before he died, foresaw His end approaching; knew the deadly draught Which he had drunk was ministered to thee By the same hand, and, dying as thou wert, Withdrew thee from this wicked court: for Assur Had poisoned thee that he might wed thy mother, Thought to exterminate the royal race, And open thus his passage to the throne: But whilst the kingdom mourned thy loss, Phradates, Our faithful friend, secreted and preserved thee; With skilful hand the precious herbs prepared, O’er Persia spread by her benignant God, Whose wondrous power drew forth the latent venom From thy parched limbs: his own son dying, you Supplied his place, and still wert called Arsaces. He waited patient for some lucky change, But the great judge of kings had otherwise Determined; truth at length descends from heaven, And vengeance rises from the tomb.

Arsaces: O God! Enough already hast thou tried thy servant, Or must I yield that life which you restored? Yes: I was born midst grandeur, shame, and horror: My mother—Ninus! O what deadly purpose— But if the traitor Assur was alone To blame, if he—