him.)
POTHINUS. Let me go forth from this hateful place.
FTATATEETA. What angers you?
POTHINUS. The curse of all the gods of Egypt be upon her! She has sold her country to the Roman, that she may buy it back from him with her kisses.
FTATATEETA. Fool: did she not tell you that she would have Caesar gone?
POTHINUS. You listened?
FTATATEETA. I took care that some honest woman should be at hand whilst you were with her.
POTHINUS. Now by the gods——
FTATATEETA. Enough of your gods! Caesar’s gods are all powerful here. It is no use you coming to Cleopatra: you are only an Egyptian. She will not listen to any of her own race: she treats us all as children.
POTHINUS. May she perish for it!
FTATATEETA (balefully). May your tongue wither for that wish! Go! send for Lucius Septimius, the slayer of Pompey. He is a Roman: may be she will listen to him. Begone!
POTHINUS (darkly). I know to whom I must go now.
FTATATEETA (suspiciously). To whom, then?
POTHINUS. To a greater Roman than Lucius. And mark this, mistress. You thought, before Caesar came, that Egypt should presently be ruled by you and your crew in the name of Cleopatra. I set myself against it——
FTATATEETA (interrupting him—wrangling). Ay; that it might be ruled by you and your crew in the name of Ptolemy.
POTHINUS. Better me, or even you, than a woman with a Roman heart; and that is what Cleopatra is now become. Whilst I live, she shall never rule. So guide yourself accordingly. (He goes out.)
It is by this time drawing on to dinner time. The table is laid on the roof of the palace; and thither Rufio is now climbing, ushered by a majestic palace official, wand of office in hand, and followed by a slave carrying an inlaid stool. After many stairs they emerge at last into a massive colonnade on the roof. Light curtains are drawn between the columns on the north and east to soften the westering sun. The official leads Rufio to one of these shaded sections. A cord for pulling the curtains apart hangs down between the pillars.
THE OFFICIAL (bowing). The Roman commander will await Caesar here.
The slave sets down the stool near the southernmost column, and slips out through the curtains.
RUFIO (sitting down, a little blown). Pouf! That was a climb. How high have we come?
THE OFFICIAL. We are on the palace roof, O Beloved of Victory!
RUFIO. Good! the Beloved of Victory has no more stairs to get up.
A second official enters from the opposite end, walking backwards.
THE SECOND OFFICIAL. Caesar approaches.
Caesar, fresh from the bath, clad in a new tunic of purple silk, comes in, beaming and festive, followed by two slaves carrying a light couch, which is hardly more than an elaborately designed bench. They place it near the northmost of the two curtained columns. When this is done they slip out through the curtains; and the two officials, formally bowing, follow them. Rufio rises to receive Caesar.
CAESAR (coming over to him). Why, Rufio! (Surveying his dress with an air of admiring astonishment) A new baldrick! A new golden pommel to your sword! And you have had your hair cut! But not your beard—? impossible! (He sniffs at Rufio’s beard.) Yes, perfumed, by Jupiter Olympus!
RUFIO (growling). Well: is it to please myself?
CAESAR (affectionately). No, my son Rufio, but to please me—to celebrate my birthday.
RUFIO (contemptuously). Your birthday! You always have a birthday when there is a pretty girl to be flattered or an ambassador to be conciliated. We had seven of them in ten months last year.
CAESAR (contritely). It is true, Rufio! I shall never break myself of these petty deceits.
RUFIO. Who is to dine with us—besides Cleopatra?
CAESAR. Apollodorus the Sicilian.
RUFIO. That popinjay!
CAESAR. Come! the popinjay is an amusing dog—tells a story; sings a song; and saves us the trouble of flattering the Queen. What does she care for old politicians and campfed bears like us? No: Apollodorus is good company, Rufio, good company.
RUFIO. Well, he can swim a bit and fence a bit: he might be worse, if he only knew how to hold his tongue.
CAESAR. The gods forbid he should ever learn! Oh, this military life! this tedious, brutal life of action! That is the worst of us Romans: we are mere doers and drudgers: a swarm of bees turned into men. Give me a good talker—one with wit and imagination enough to live without continually doing something!
RUFIO. Ay! a nice time he would have of it with you when dinner was over! Have you noticed that I am before my time?
CAESAR. Aha! I thought that meant something. What is it?
RUFIO. Can we be overheard here?
CAESAR. Our privacy invites eavesdropping. I can remedy that. (He claps his hands twice. The curtains are drawn, revealing the roof garden with a banqueting table set across in the middle for four persons, one at each end, and two side by side. The side next Caesar and Rufio is blocked with golden wine vessels and basins. A gorgeous major-domo is superintending the laying of the table by a staff of slaves. The colonnade goes round the garden at both sides to the further end, where a gap in it, like a great gateway, leaves the view open to the sky beyond the western edge of the roof, except in the middle, where a life size image of Ra, seated on a huge plinth, towers up, with hawk head and crown of asp and disk. His altar, which stands at his feet, is a single white stone.) Now everybody can see us, nobody will think of listening to us. (He sits down on the bench left by the two slaves.)
RUFIO (sitting down on his stool). Pothinus wants to speak to you. I advise you to see him: there is some plotting going on here among the women.
CAESAR. Who is Pothinus?
RUFIO. The fellow with hair like squirrel’s fur—the little King’s bear leader, whom you kept prisoner.
CAESAR (annoyed). And has he not escaped?
RUFIO. No.
CAESAR (rising imperiously). Why not? You have been guarding this man instead of watching the enemy. Have I not told you always to let prisoners escape unless there are special orders to the contrary? Are there not enough mouths to be fed without him?
RUFIO. Yes; and if you would have a little sense and let me cut his throat, you would save his rations. Anyhow, he won’t escape. Three sentries have told him they would put a pilum through him if they saw him again. What more can they do? He prefers to stay and spy on us. So would I if I had to do with generals subject to fits of clemency.
CAESAR (resuming his seat, argued down). Hm! And so he wants to see me.
RUFIO. Ay. I have brought him with me. He is waiting there (jerking his thumb over his shoulder) under guard.
CAESAR. And you want me to see him?
RUFIO (obstinately). I don’t want anything. I daresay you will do what you like. Don’t put it on to me.
CAESAR (with an air of doing it expressly to indulge Rufio). Well, well: let us have him.
RUFIO (calling). Ho there, guard! Release your man and send him up. (Beckoning) Come along!
Pothinus enters and stops mistrustfully between the two, looking from one to the other.
CAESAR (graciously). Ah, Pothinus! You are welcome. And what is the news this afternoon?
POTHINUS. Caesar: I come to warn you of a danger, and to make you an offer.