Sémiramis: Arsaces, all is ready, We want but thee, great master of the world, Whose fate, like mine, depends on thee; O haste, And make our bliss complete! with joy I see Thy brows encircled with that sacred wreath: The priest, I know, was by the gods commanded To crown thee with it; heaven and hell at once Approve my choice, and by these signs confirm it: Assur’s seditious party, struck with awe And holy reverence, tremble at my presence; Ninus, at length propitious, hath required A sacrifice, O haste, and give it him, That we may soon be blest: the people’s hearts Are all with us, and Assur’s threats are vain.

Arsaces: [Walking about with great emotion.] Assur! away! in his perfidious blood The parricide—we will revenge thee, Ninus.

Sémiramis: What do I hear? just heaven! speakest thou of him, Of Ninus?

Arsaces: [Wildly.] Saidst thou not, his guilty hand [Coming to himself.] Had shed—to arm against his queen! the slave, That was enough to make me hate him.

Sémiramis: Haste then, Receive my hand, and thus begin thy vengeance.

Arsaces: My father!

Sémiramis: Ha! what looks are those, Arsaces? Is this the soft submissive tender heart Which I expected from thee, when I gave My willing hand? That fearful prodigies, And spectres rising from their dark domain, Should leave the marks of horror on thy soul, Alarms me not, I feel them too, but less When I behold Arsaces: do not thus O’erspread this fairest dawn of happiness With sorrow’s gloomy shade, but still appear Such as thou wert when trembling at my feet, Lest Assur e’er should be thy master; fear Nor him, nor Ninus and his angry shade; My dear Arsaces, thou art my support, My lord, my husband.

Arsaces: [Turning aside from her.] ’Tis too much, O stop: Her guilt o’erwhelms me.

Sémiramis: How his soul’s disturbed! Alas! he wants that peace which he bestowed On me.

Arsaces: Sémiramis—

Sémiramis: What wouldst thou? speak.

Arsaces: I cannot: leave me, leave me: hence! begone.

Sémiramis: Amazing! leave thee! can I e’er forsake Arsaces? O explain this mystery to me, And ease my tortured soul: it makes us both Unhappy:—ha! despair is in thy aspect; Thou chillest my veins with horror, and thy eyes Are dreadful; they affright me more than heaven And hell united to oppose my vows: Scarce can my trembling lips pronounce, I love thee: Some power invisible now leads me on Towards thee, now withholds me from thy arms, And mingles, how I know not, tenderest love With sentiments of horror and despair.

Arsaces: Hate me, abhor me.