_Alexandria. A hall on the first floor of the Palace, ending in a
loggia approached by two steps. Through the arches of the loggia the
Mediterranean can be seen, bright in the morning sun. The clean lofty
walls, painted with a procession of the Egyptian theocracy, presented
in profile as flat ornament, and the absence of mirrors, sham
perspectives, stuffy upholstery and textiles, make the place handsome,
wholesome, simple and cool, or, as a rich English manufacturer would
express it, poor, bare, ridiculous and unhomely. For Tottenham Court
Road civilization is to this Egyptian civilization as glass bead and
tattoo civilization is to Tottenham Court Road._
_The young king Ptolemy Dionysus (aged ten) is at the top of the
steps, on his way in through the loggia, led by his guardian Pothinus,
who has him by the hand. The court is assembled to receive him. It is
made up of men and women (some of the women being officials) of
various complexions and races, mostly Egyptian; some of them,
comparatively fair, from lower Egypt; some, much darker, from upper
Egypt; with a few Greeks and Jews. Prominent in a group on Ptolemy's
right hand is Theodotus, Ptolemy's tutor. Another group, on Ptolemy's
left, is headed by Achillas, the general of Ptolemy's troops.
Theodotus is a little old man, whose features are as cramped and
wizened as his limbs, except his tall straight forehead, which
occupies more space than all the rest of his face. He maintains an air
of magpie keenness and profundity, listening to what the others say
with the sarcastic vigilance of a philosopher listening to the
exercises of his disciples. Achillas is a tall handsome man of
thirty-five, with a fine black beard curled like the coat of a poodle.
Apparently not a clever man, but distinguished and dignified. Pothinus
is a vigorous man of fifty, a eunuch, passionate, energetic and quick
witted, but of common mind and character; impatient and unable to
control his temper. He has fine tawny hair, like fur. Ptolemy, the
King, looks much older than an English boy of ten; but he has the
childish air, the habit of being in leading strings, the mixture of
impotence and petulance, the appearance of being excessively washed,
combed and dressed by other hands, which is exhibited by court-bred
princes of all ages._
_All receive the King with reverences. He comes down the steps to a
chair of state which stands a little to his right, the only seat in
the hall. Taking his place before it, he looks nervously for
instructions to Pothinus, who places himself at his left hand._
POTHINUS. The King of Egypt has a word to speak.
THEODOTUS (_in a squeak which he makes impressive by sheer
self-opinionativeness_). Peace for the King's word!
PTOLEMY (_without any vocal inflexions: he is evidently repeating a
lesson_). Take notice of this all of you. I am the firstborn son of
Auletes the Flute Blower who was your King. My sister Berenice drove
him from his throne and reigned in his stead but--but (_he
hesitates_)----
POTHINUS (_stealthily prompting_).--but the gods would not suffer----
PTOLEMY. Yes--the gods would not suffer--not suffer--(_he stops; then,
crestfallen_) I forget what the gods would not suffer.
THEODOTUS. Let Pothinus, the King's guardian, speak for the King.
POTHINUS (_suppressing his impatience with difficulty_). The King
wished to say that the gods would not suffer the impiety of his sister
to go unpunished.
PTOLEMY (_hastily_). Yes: I remember the rest of it. (_He resumes his
monotone_). Therefore the gods sent a stranger, one Mark Antony, a
Roman captain of horsemen, across the sands of the desert and he set
my father again upon the throne. And my father took Berenice my sister
and struck her head off. And now that my father is dead yet another of
his daughters, my sister Cleopatra, would snatch the kingdom from me
and reign in my place. But the gods would not suffer (_Pothinus coughs
admonitorily_)--the gods--the gods would not suffer----
POTHINUS (_prompting_).--will not maintain----
PTOLEMY. Oh yes--will not maintain such iniquity, they will give her
head to the axe even as her sister's. But with the help of the witch
Ftatateeta she hath cast a spell on the Roman Julius Caesar to make
him uphold her false pretence to rule in Egypt. Take notice then that
I will not suffer--that I will not suffer--(_pettishly, to Pothinus_)
What is it that I will not suffer?
POTHINUS (_suddenly exploding with all the force and emphasis of
political passion_). The King will not suffer a foreigner to take from
him the throne of our Egypt. (_A shout of applause._) Tell the King,
Achillas, how many soldiers and horsemen follow the Roman?
THEODOTUS. Let the King's general speak!
ACHILLAS. But two Roman legions, O King. Three thousand soldiers and
scarce a thousand horsemen.
_The court breaks into derisive laughter; and a great chattering
begins, amid which Rufio, a Roman officer, appears in the loggia. He
is a burly, black-bearded man of middle age, very blunt, prompt and
rough, with small clear eyes, and plump nose and cheeks, which,
however, like the rest of his flesh, are in ironhard condition._
RUFIO (_from the steps_). Peace, ho! (_The laughter and chatter cease
abruptly._) Caesar approaches.
THEODOTUS (_with much presence of mind_). The King permits the Roman
commander to enter!
_Caesar, plainly dressed, but wearing an oak wreath to conceal his
baldness, enters from, the loggia, attended by Britannus, his
secretary, a Briton, about forty, tall, solemn, and already slightly
bald, with a heavy, drooping, hazel-colored moustache trained so as to
lose its ends in a pair of trim whiskers. He is carefully dressed in
blue, with portfolio, inkhorn, and reed pen at his girdle. His serious
air and sense of the importance of the business in hand is in marked
contrast to the kindly interest of Caesar, who looks at the scene,
which is new to him, with the frank curiosity of a child, and then
turns to the King's chair: Britannus and Rufio posting themselves near
the steps at the other side._
CAESAR (_looking at Pothinus and Ptolemy_). Which is the King? the man
or the boy?
POTHINUS. I am Pothinus, the guardian of my lord the King.
CAESAR (_patting Ptolemy kindly on the shoulder_). So you are the
King. Dull work at your age, eh? (_To Pothinus_) your servant,
Pothinus. (_He turns away unconcernedly and comes slowly along the
middle of the hall, looking from side to side at the courtiers until
he reaches Achillas._) And this gentleman?
THEODOTUS. Achillas, the King's general.
CAESAR (_to Achillas, very friendly_). A general, eh? I am a general
myself. But I began too old, too old. Health and many victories,
Achillas!
ACHILLAS. As the gods will, Caesar.
CAESAR (_turning to Theodotus_). And you, sir, are----?
THEODOTUS. Theodotus, the King's tutor.
CAESAR. You teach men how to be kings, Theodotus. That is very clever
of you. (_Looking at the gods on the walls as he turns away from
Theodotus and goes up again to Pothinus._) And this place?
POTHINUS. The council chamber of the chancellors of the King's
treasury, Caesar.
CAESAR. Ah! That reminds me. I want some money.
POTHINUS. The King's treasury is poor, Caesar.
CAESAR. Yes: I notice that there is but one chair in it.
RUFIO (_shouting gruffly_). Bring a chair there, some of you, for
Caesar.
PTOLEMY (_rising shyly to offer his chair_). Caesar----
CAESAR (_kindly_). No, no, my boy: that is your chair of state. Sit
down.
_He makes Ptolemy sit down again. Meanwhile Rufio, looking about him,
sees in the nearest corner an image of the god Ra, represented as a
seated man with the head of a hawk. Before the image is a bronze
tripod, about as large as a three-legged stool, with a stick of
incense burning on it. Rufio, with Roman resourcefulness and
indifference to foreign superstitions, promptly seizes the tripod;
shakes off the incense; blows away the ash; and dumps it down behind
Caesar, nearly in the middle of the hall._
RUFIO. Sit on that, Caesar.
_A shiver runs through the court, followed by a hissing whisper of_
Sacrilege!
CAESAR (_seating himself_). Now, Pothinus, to business. I am badly in
want of money.
BRITANNUS (_disapproving of these informal expressions_). My master
would say that there is a lawful debt due to Rome by Egypt, contracted
by the King's deceased father to the Triumvirate; and that it is
Caesar's duty to his country to require immediate payment.
CAESAR (_blandly_). Ah, I forgot. I have not made my companions known
here. Pothinus: this is Britannus, my secretary. He is an islander
from the western end of the world, a day's voyage from Gaul.
(_Britannus bows stiffly._) This gentleman is Rufio, my comrade in
arms. (_Rufio nods._) Pothinus: I want 1,600 talents.
_The courtiers, appalled, murmur loudly, and Theodotus and Achillas
appeal mutely to one another against so monstrous a demand._
POTHINUS (_aghast_). Forty million sesterces! Impossible. There is not
so much money in the King's treasury.
CAESAR (_encouragingly_). _Only_ sixteen hundred talents, Pothinus.
Why count it in sesterces? A sestertius is only worth a loaf of bread.
POTHINUS. And a talent is worth a racehorse. I say it is impossible.
We have been at strife here, because the King's sister Cleopatra
falsely claims his throne. The King's taxes have not been collected
for a whole year.
CAESAR. Yes they have, Pothinus. My officers have been collecting them
all the morning. (_Renewed whisper and sensation, not without some
stifled laughter, among the courtiers._)
RUFIO (_bluntly_). You must pay, Pothinus. Why waste words? You are
getting off cheaply enough.
POTHINUS (_bitterly_). Is it possible that Caesar, the conqueror of
the world, has time to occupy himself with such a trifle as our taxes?
CAESAR. My friend: taxes are the chief business of a conqueror of the
world.
POTHINUS. Then take warning, Caesar. This day, the treasures of the
temples and the gold of the King's treasury will be sent to the mint
to be melted down for our ransom in the sight of the people. They
shall see us sitting under bare walls and drinking from wooden cups.
And their wrath be on your head, Caesar, if you force us to this
sacrilege!
CAESAR. Do not fear, Pothinus: the people know how well wine tastes in
wooden cups. In return for your bounty, I will settle this dispute
about the throne for you, if you will. What say you?
POTHINUS. If I say no, will that hinder you?
RUFIO (_defiantly_). No.
CAESAR. You say the matter has been at issue for a year, Pothinus. May
I have ten minutes at it?
POTHINUS. You will do your pleasure, doubtless.
CAESAR. Good! But first, let us have Cleopatra here.
THEODOTUS. She is not in Alexandria: she is fled into Syria.
CAESAR. I think not. (_To Rufio_) Call Totateeta.
RUFIO (_calling_). Ho there, Teetatota.
_Ftatateeta enters the loggia, and stands arrogantly at the top of the
steps._
FTATATEETA. Who pronounces the name of Ftatateeta, the Queen's chief
nurse?
CAESAR. Nobody can pronounce it, Tota, except yourself. Where is your
mistress?
_Cleopatra, who is hiding behind Ftafateeta, peeps out at them,
laughing. Caesar rises._
CAESAR. Will the Queen favor us with her presence for a moment?
CLEOPATRA (_pushing Ftatateeta aside and standing haughtily on the
brink of the steps_). Am I to behave like a Queen?
CAESAR. Yes.
_Cleopatra immediately comes down to the chair of state; seizes
Ptolemy and drags him out of his seat; then takes his place in the
chair. Ftatateeta seats herself on the step of the loggia, and sits
there, watching the scene with sybilline intensity._
PTOLEMY (_mortified, and struggling with his tears_). Caesar: this is
how she treats me always. If I am a King why is she allowed to take
everything from me?
CLEOPATRA. You are not to be King, you little cry-baby. You are to be
eaten by the Romans.
CAESAR (_touched by Ptolemy's distress_). Come here, my boy, and stand
by me.
_Ptolemy goes over to Caesar, who, resuming his seat on the tripod,
takes the boy's hand to encourage him. Cleopatra, furiously jealous,
rises and glares at them._
CLEOPATRA (_with flaming cheeks_). Take your throne: I don't want it.
(_She flings away from the chair, and approaches Ptolemy, who shrinks
from her._) Go this instant and sit down in your place.
CAESAR. Go, Ptolemy. Always take a throne when it is offered to you.
RUFIO. I hope you will have the good sense to follow your own advice
when we return to Rome, Caesar.
_Ptolemy slowly goes back to the throne, giving Cleopatra a wide
berth, in evident fear of her hands. She takes his place beside
Caesar._
CAESAR. Pothinus----
CLEOPATRA (_interrupting him_). Are you not going to speak to me?
CAESAR. Be quiet. Open your mouth again before I give you leave; and
you shall be eaten.
CLEOPATRA. I am not afraid. A queen must not be afraid. Eat my husband
there, if you like: _he_ is afraid.
CAESAR (_starting_). Your husband! What do you mean?
CLEOPATRA (_pointing to Ptolemy_). That little thing.
_The two Romans and the Briton stare at one another in amazement._
THEODOTUS. Caesar: you are a stranger here, and not conversant with
our laws. The kings and queens of Egypt may not marry except with
their own royal blood. Ptolemy and Cleopatra are born king and consort
just as they are born brother and sister.
BRITANNUS (_shocked_). Caesar: this is not proper.
THEODOTUS (_outraged_). How!
CAESAR (_recovering his self-possession_). Pardon him, Theodotus: he
is a barbarian, and thinks that the customs of his tribe and island
are the laws of nature.
BRITANNUS. On the contrary, Caesar, it is these Egyptians who are
barbarians; and you do wrong to encourage them. I say it is a scandal.
CAESAR. Scandal or not, my friend, it opens the gate of peace. (_He
rises and addresses Pothinus seriously._) Pothinus: hear what I
propose.
RUFIO. Hear Caesar there.
CAESAR. Ptolemy and Cleopatra shall reign jointly in Egypt.
ACHILLAS. What of the King's younger brother and Cleopatra's younger
sister?
RUFIO (_explaining_). There is another little Ptolemy, Caesar: so they
tell me.
CAESAR. Well, the little Ptolemy can marry the other sister; and we
will make them both a present of Cyprus.
POTHINUS (_impatiently_). Cyprus is of no use to anybody.
CAESAR. No matter: you shall have it for the sake of peace.
BRITANNUS (_unconsciously anticipating a later statesman_). Peace with
honor, Pothinus.
POTHINUS (_mutinously_). Caesar: be honest. The money you demand is
the price of our freedom. Take it; and leave us to settle our own
affairs.
THE BOLDER COURTIERS (_encouraged by Pothinus's tone and Caesar's
quietness_). Yes, yes. Egypt for the Egyptians!
_The conference now becomes an altercation, the Egyptians becoming
more and more heated. Caesar remains unruffled; but Rufio grows
fiercer and doggeder, and Britannus haughtily indignant._
RUFIO (_contemptuously_). Egypt for the Egyptians! Do you forget that
there is a Roman army of occupation here, left by Aulus Gabinius when
he set up your toy king for you?
ACHILLAS (_suddenly asserting himself_). And now under _my_ command.
_I_ am the Roman general here, Caesar.
CAESAR (_tickled by the humor of the situation_). And also the
Egyptian general, eh?
POTHINUS (_triumphantly_). That is so, Caesar.
CAESAR (_to Achillas_). So you can make war on the Egyptians in the
name of Rome, and on the Romans--on _me_, if necessary--in the name of
Egypt?
ACHILLAS. That is so, Caesar.
CAESAR. And which side are you on at present, if I may presume to ask,
general?
ACHILLAS. On the side of the right and of the gods.
CAESAR. Hm! How many men have you?
ACHILLAS. That will appear when I take the field.
RUFIO (_truculently_). Are your men Romans? If not, it matters not how
many there are, provided you are no stronger than 500 to ten.
POTHINUS. It is useless to try to bluff us, Rufio. Caesar has been
defeated before and may be defeated again. A few weeks ago Caesar was
flying for his life before Pompey: a few months hence he may be flying
for his life before Cato and Juba of Numidia, the African King.
ACHILLAS (_following up Pothinus's speech menacingly_). What can you
do with 4,000 men?
THEODOTUS (_following up Achillas's speech with a raucous squeak_).
And without money? Away with you.
ALL THE COURTIERS (_shouting fiercely and crowding towards Caesar_).
Away with you. Egypt for the Egyptians! Begone.
_Rufio bites his beard, too angry to speak. Caesar sits on comfortably
as if he were at breakfast, and the cat were clamoring for a piece of
Finnan-haddie._
CLEOPATRA. Why do you let them talk to you like that, Caesar? Are you
afraid?
CAESAR. Why, my dear, what they say is quite true.
CLEOPATRA. But if you go away, I shall not be Queen.
CAESAR. I shall not go away until you are Queen.
POTHINUS. Achillas: if you are not a fool, you will take that girl
whilst she is under your hand.
RUFIO (_daring them_). Why not take Caesar as well, Achillas?
POTHINUS (_retorting the defiance with interest_). Well said, Rufio.
Why not?
RUFIO. Try, Achillas. (_Calling_) Guard there.
_The loggia immediately fills with Caesar's soldiers, who stand, sword
in hand, at the top of the steps, waiting the word to charge from
their centurion, who carries a cudgel. For a moment the Egyptians face
them proudly: then they retire sullenly to their former places._
BRITANNUS. You are Caesar's prisoners, all of you.
CAESAR (_benevolently_). Oh no, no, no. By no means. Caesar's guests,
gentlemen.
CLEOPATRA. Won't you cut their heads off?
CAESAR. What! Cut off your brother's head?
CLEOPATRA. Why not? He would cut off mine, if he got the chance.
Wouldn't you, Ptolemy?
PTOLEMY (_pale and obstinate_). I would. I will, too, when I grow up.
_Cleopatra is rent by a struggle between her newly-acquired dignity as
a queen, and a strong impulse to put out her tongue at him. She takes
no part in the scene which follows, but watches it with curiosity and
wonder, fidgeting with the restlessness of a child, and sitting down
on Caesar's tripod when he rises._
POTHINUS. Caesar: if you attempt to detain us----
RUFIO. He will succeed, Egyptian: make up your mind to that. We hold
the palace, the beach, and the eastern harbor. The road to Rome is
open; and you shall travel it if Caesar chooses.
CAESAR (_courteously_). I could do no less, Pothinus, to secure the
retreat of my own soldiers. I am accountable for every life among
them. But you are free to go. So are all here, and in the palace.
RUFIO (_aghast at this clemency_). What! Renegades and all?
CAESAR (_softening the expression_). Roman army of occupation and all,
Rufio.
POTHINUS (_desperately_). Then I make a last appeal to Caesar's
justice. I shall call a witness to prove that but for us, the Roman
army of occupation, led by the greatest soldier in the world, would
now have Caesar at its mercy. (_Calling through the loggia_) Ho,
there, Lucius Septimius (_Caesar starts, deeply moved_): if my voice
can reach you, come forth and testify before Caesar.
CAESAR (_shrinking_). No, no.
THEODOTUS. Yes, I say. Let the military tribune bear witness.
_Lucius Septimius, a clean shaven, trim athlete of about 40, with
symmetrical features, resolute mouth, and handsome, thin Roman nose,
in the dress of a Roman officer, comes in through the loggia and
confronts Caesar, who hides his face with his robe for a moment; then,
mastering himself, drops it, and confronts the tribune with dignity._
POTHINUS. Bear witness, Lucius Septimius. Caesar came hither in
pursuit of his foe. Did we shelter his foe?
LUCIUS. As Pompey's foot touched the Egyptian shore, his head fell by
the stroke of my sword.
THEODOTUS (_with viperish relish_). Under the eyes of his wife and
child! Remember that, Caesar! They saw it from the ship he had just
left. We have given you a full and sweet measure of vengeance.
CAESAR (_with horror_). Vengeance!
POTHINUS. Our first gift to you, as your galley came into the
roadstead, was the head of your rival for the empire of the world.
Bear witness, Lucius Septimius: is it not so?
LUCIUS. It is so. With this hand, that slew Pompey, I placed his head
at the feet of Caesar.
CAESAR. Murderer! So would you have slain Caesar, had Pompey been
victorious at Pharsalia.
LUCIUS. Woe to the vanquished, Caesar! When I served Pompey, I slew as
good men as he, only because he conquered them. His turn came at last.
THEODOTUS (_flatteringly_). The deed was not yours, Caesar, but
ours--nay, mine; for it was done by my counsel. Thanks to us, you keep
your reputation for clemency, and have your vengeance too.
CAESAR. Vengeance! Vengeance!! Oh, if I could stoop to vengeance, what
would I not exact from you as the price of this murdered man's blood.
(_They shrink back, appalled and disconcerted._) Was he not my
son-in-law, my ancient friend, for 20 years the master of great Rome,
for 30 years the compeller of victory? Did not I, as a Roman, share
his glory? Was the Fate that forced us to fight for the mastery of the
world, of our making? Am I Julius Caesar, or am I a wolf, that you
fling to me the grey head of the old soldier, the laurelled conqueror,
the mighty Roman, treacherously struck down by this callous ruffian,
and then claim my gratitude for it! (_To Lucius Septimius_) Begone:
you fill me with horror.
LUCIUS (_cold and undaunted_). Pshaw! You have seen severed heads
before, Caesar, and severed right hands too, I think; some thousands
of them, in Gaul, after you vanquished Vercingetorix. Did you spare
him, with all your clemency? Was that vengeance?
CAESAR. No, by the gods! would that it had been! Vengeance at least is
human. No, I say: those severed right hands, and the brave
Vercingetorix basely strangled in a vault beneath the Capitol, were
(_with shuddering satire_) a wise severity, a necessary protection to
the commonwealth, a duty of statesmanship--follies and fictions ten
times bloodier than honest vengeance! What a fool was I then! To think
that men's lives should be at the mercy of such fools! (_Humbly_)
Lucius Septimius, pardon me: why should the slayer of Vercingetorix
rebuke the slayer of Pompey? You are free to go with the rest. Or stay
if you will: I will find a place for you in my service.
LUCIUS. The odds are against you, Caesar. I go. (_He turns to go out
through the loggia._)
RUFIO (_full of wrath at seeing his prey escaping_). That means that
he is a Republican.
LUCIUS (_turning defiantly on the loggia steps_). And what are you?
RUFIO. A Caesarian, like all Caesar's soldiers.
CAESAR (_courteously_). Lucius: believe me, Caesar is no Caesarian.
Were Rome a true republic, then were Caesar the first of Republicans.
But you have made your choice. Farewell.
LUCIUS. Farewell. Come, Achillas, whilst there is yet time.
_Caesar, seeing that Rufio's temper threatens to get the worse of him,
puts his hand on his shoulder and brings him down the hall out of
harm's way, Britannus accompanying them and posting himself on
Caesar's right hand. This movement brings the three in a little group
to the place occupied by Achillas, who moves haughtily away and joins
Theodotus on the other side. Lucius Septimius goes out through the
soldiers in the loggia. Pothinus, Theodotus and Achillas follow him
with the courtiers, very mistrustful of the soldiers, who close up in
their rear and go out after them, keeping them moving without much
ceremony. The King is left in his chair, piteous, obstinate, with
twitching face and fingers. During these movements Rufio maintains an
energetic grumbling, as follows:--_
RUFIO (_as Lucius departs_). Do you suppose he would let us go if he
had our heads in his hands?
CAESAR. I have no right to suppose that his ways are any baser than
mine.
RUFIO. Psha!
CAESAR. Rufio: if I take Lucius Septimius for my model, and become
exactly like him, ceasing to be Caesar, will you serve me still?
BRITANNUS. Caesar: this is not good sense. Your duty to Rome demands
that her enemies should be prevented from doing further mischief.
(_Caesar, whose delight in the moral eye-to-business of his British
secretary is inexhaustible, smiles intelligently._)
RUFIO. It is no use talking to him, Britannus: you may save your
breath to cool your porridge. But mark this, Caesar. Clemency is very
well for you; but what is it for your soldiers, who have to fight
to-morrow the men you spared yesterday? You may give what orders you
please; but I tell you that your next victory will be a massacre,
thanks to your clemency. _I_, for one, will take no prisoners. I will
kill my enemies in the field; and then you can preach as much clemency
as you please: I shall never have to fight them again. And now, with
your leave, I will see these gentry off the premises. (_He turns to
go._)
CAESAR (_turning also and seeing Ptolemy_). What! Have they left the
boy alone! Oh shame, shame!
RUFIO (_taking Ptolemy's hand and making him rise_). Come, your
majesty!
PTOLEMY (_to Caesar, drawing away his hand from Rufio_). Is he turning
me out of my palace?
RUFIO (_grimly_). You are welcome to stay if you wish.
CAESAR (_kindly_). Go, my boy. I will not harm you; but you will be
safer away, among your friends. Here you are in the lion's mouth.
PTOLEMY (_turning to go_). It is not the lion I fear, but (_looking at
Rufio_) the jackal. (_He goes out through the loggia._)
CAESAR (_laughing approvingly_). Brave boy!
CLEOPATRA (_jealous of Caesar's approbation, calling after Ptolemy_).
Little silly. You think that very clever.
CAESAR. Britannus: Attend the King. Give him in charge to that
Pothinus fellow. (_Britannus goes out after Ptolemy._)
RUFIO (_pointing to Cleopatra_). And this piece of goods? What is to
be done with _her_? However, I suppose I may leave that to you. (_He
goes out through the loggia._)
CLEOPATRA (_flushing suddenly and turning on Caesar_). Did you mean me
to go with the rest?
CAESAR (_a little preoccupied, goes with a sigh to Ptolemy's chair,
whilst she waits for his answer with red cheeks and clenched fists_).
You are free to do just as you please, Cleopatra.
CLEOPATRA. Then you do not care whether I stay or not?
CAESAR (_smiling_). Of course I had rather you stayed.
CLEOPATRA. Much, _much_ rather?
CAESAR (_nodding_). Much, much rather.
CLEOPATRA. Then I consent to stay, because I am asked. But I do not
want to, mind.
CAESAR. That is quite understood. (_Calling_) Totateeta.
_Ftatateeta, still seated, turns her eyes on him with a sinister
expression, but does not move._
CLEOPATRA (_with a splutter of laughter_). Her name is not Totateeta:
it is Ftatateeta. (_Calling_) Ftatateeta. (_Ftatateeta instantly rises
and comes to Cleopatra._)
CAESAR (_stumbling over the name_). Tfatafeeta will forgive the erring
tongue of a Roman. Tota: the Queen will hold her state here in
Alexandria. Engage women to attend upon her; and do all that is
needful.
FTATATEETA. Am I then the mistress of the Queen's household?
CLEOPATRA (_sharply_). No: _I_ am the mistress of the Queen's
household. Go and do as you are told, or I will have you thrown into
the Nile this very afternoon, to poison the poor crocodiles.
CAESAR (_shocked_). Oh no, no.
CLEOPATRA. Oh yes, yes. You are very sentimental, Caesar; but you are
clever; and if you do as I tell you, you will soon learn to govern.
_Caesar, quite dumbfounded by this impertinence, turns in his chair
and stares at her._
_Ftatateeta, smiling grimly, and showing a splendid set of teeth,
goes, leaving them alone together._
CAESAR. Cleopatra: I really think I must eat you, after all.
CLEOPATRA (_kneeling beside him and looking at him with eager
interest, half real, half affected to shew how intelligent she is_).
You must not talk to me now as if I were a child.
CAESAR. You have been growing up since the Sphinx introduced us the
other night; and you think you know more than I do already.
CLEOPATRA (_taken down, and anxious to justify herself_). No: that
would be very silly of me: of course I know that. But--(_suddenly_)
are you angry with me?
CAESAR. No.
CLEOPATRA (_only half believing him_). Then why are you so thoughtful?
CAESAR (_rising_). I have work to do, Cleopatra.
CLEOPATRA (_drawing back_). Work! (_Offended_) You are tired of
talking to me; and that is your excuse to get away from me.
CAESAR (_sitting down again to appease her_). Well, well: another
minute. But then--work!
CLEOPATRA. Work! What nonsense! You must remember that you are a King
now: I have made you one. Kings don't work.
CAESAR. Oh! Who told you that, little kitten? Eh?
CLEOPATRA. My father was King of Egypt; and he never worked. But he
was a great king, and cut off my sister's head because she rebelled
against him and took the throne from him.
CAESAR. Well; and how did he get his throne back again?
CLEOPATRA (_eagerly, her eyes lighting up_). I will tell you. A
beautiful young man, with strong round arms, came over the desert with
many horsemen, and slew my sister's husband and gave my father back
his throne. (_Wistfully_) I was only twelve then. Oh, I wish he would
come again, now that I am a Queen. I would make him my husband.
CAESAR. It might be managed, perhaps; for it was I who sent that
beautiful young man to help your father.
CLEOPATRA (_enraptured_). You know him!
CAESAR (_nodding_). I do.
CLEOPATRA. Has he come with you? (_Caesar shakes his head: she is
cruelly disappointed._) Oh, I wish he had, I wish he had. If only I
were a little older; so that he might not think me a mere kitten, as
you do! But perhaps that is because _you_ are old. He is many, _many_
years younger than you, is he not?
CAESAR (_as if swallowing a pill_). He is somewhat younger.
CLEOPATRA. Would he be my husband, do you think, if I asked him?
CAESAR. Very likely.
CLEOPATRA. But I should not like to ask him. Could you not persuade
him to ask me--without knowing that I wanted him to?
CAESAR (_touched by her innocence of the beautiful young man's
character_). My poor child!
CLEOPATRA. Why do you say that as if you were sorry for me? Does he
love anyone else?
CAESAR. I am afraid so.
CLEOPATRA (_tearfully_). Then I shall not be his first love.
CAESAR. Not quite the first. He is greatly admired by women.
CLEOPATRA. I wish I could be the first. But if he loves me, I will
make him kill all the rest. Tell me: is he still beautiful? Do his
strong round arms shine in the sun like marble?
CAESAR. He is in excellent condition--considering how much he eats and
drinks.
CLEOPATRA. Oh, you must not say common, earthly things about him; for
I love him. He is a god.
CAESAR. He is a great captain of horsemen, and swifter of foot than
any other Roman.
CLEOPATRA. What is his real name?
CAESAR (_puzzled_). His _real_ name?
CLEOPATRA. Yes. I always call him Horus, because Horus is the most
beautiful of our gods. But I want to know his real name.
CAESAR. His name is Mark Antony.
CLEOPATRA (_musically_). Mark Antony, Mark Antony, Mark Antony! What a
beautiful name! (_She throws her arms round Caesar's neck._) Oh, how I
love you for sending him to help my father! Did you love my father
very much?
CAESAR. No, my child; but your father, as you say, never worked. I
always work. So when he lost his crown he had to promise me 16,000
talents to get it back for him.
CLEOPATRA. Did he ever pay you?
CAESAR. Not in full.
CLEOPATRA. He was quite right: it was too dear. The whole world is not
worth 16,000 talents.
CAESAR. That is perhaps true, Cleopatra. Those Egyptians who work paid
as much of it as he could drag from them. The rest is still due. But
as I most likely shall not get it, I must go back to my work. So you
must run away for a little and send my secretary to me.
CLEOPATRA (_coaxing_). No: I want to stay and hear you talk about Mark
Antony.
CAESAR. But if I do not get to work, Pothinus and the rest of them
will cut us off from the harbor; and then the way from Rome will be
blocked.
CLEOPATRA. No matter: I don't want you to go back to Rome.
CAESAR. But you want Mark Antony to come from it.
CLEOPATRA (_springing up_). Oh yes, yes, yes: I forgot. Go quickly and
work, Caesar; and keep the way over the sea open for my Mark Antony.
(_She runs out through the loggia, kissing her hand to Mark Antony
across the sea._)
CAESAR (_going briskly up the middle of the hall to the loggia
steps_). Ho, Britannus. (_He is startled by the entry of a wounded
Roman soldier, who confronts him from the upper step._) What now?
SOLDIER (_pointing to his bandaged head_). This, Caesar; and two of my
comrades killed in the market place.
CAESAR (_quiet but attending_). Ay. Why?
SOLDIER. There is an army come to Alexandria, calling itself the Roman
army.
CAESAR. The Roman army of occupation. Ay?
SOLDIER. Commanded by one Achillas.
CAESAR. Well?
SOLDIER. The citizens rose against us when the army entered the gates.
I was with two others in the market place when the news came. They set
upon us. I cut my way out; and here I am.
CAESAR. Good. I am glad to see you alive. (_Rufio enters the loggia
hastily, passing behind the soldier to look out through one of the
arches at the quay beneath._) Rufio, we are besieged.
RUFIO. What! Already?
CAESAR. Now or to-morrow: what does it matter? We _shall_ be besieged.
_Britannus runs in._
BRITANNUS. Caesar----
CAESAR (_anticipating him_). Yes: I know. (_Rufio and Britannus come
down the hall from the loggia at opposite sides, past Caesar, who
waits for a moment near the step to say to the soldier._) Comrade:
give the word to turn out on the beach and stand by the boats. Get
your wound attended to. Go. (_The soldier hurries out. Caesar comes
down the hall between Rufio and Britannus_) Rufio: we have some ships
in the west harbor. Burn them.
RUFIO (_staring_). Burn them!!
CAESAR. Take every boat we have in the east harbor, and seize the
Pharos--that island with the lighthouse. Leave half our men behind to
hold the beach and the quay outside this palace: that is the way home.
RUFIO (_disapproving strongly_). Are we to give up the city?
CAESAR. We have not got it, Rufio. This palace we have; and--what is
that building next door?
RUFIO. The theatre.
CAESAR. We will have that too: it commands the strand. For the rest,
Egypt for the Egyptians!
RUFIO. Well, you know best, I suppose. Is that all?
CAESAR. That is all. Are those ships burnt yet?
RUFIO. Be easy: I shall waste no more time. (_He runs out._)
BRITANNUS. Caesar: Pothinus demands speech of you. It's my opinion he
needs a lesson. His manner is most insolent.
CAESAR. Where is he?
BRITANNUS. He waits without.
CAESAR. Ho there! Admit Pothinus.
_Pothinus appears in the loggia, and comes down the hall very
haughtily to Caesar's left hand._
CAESAR. Well, Pothinus?
POTHINUS. I have brought you our ultimatum, Caesar.
CAESAR. Ultimatum! The door was open: you should have gone out through
it before you declared war. You are my prisoner now. (_He goes to the
chair and loosens his toga._)
POTHINUS (_scornfully_). I _your_ prisoner! Do you know that you are
in Alexandria, and that King Ptolemy, with an army outnumbering your
little troop a hundred to one, is in possession of Alexandria?
CAESAR (_unconcernedly taking off his toga and throwing it on the
chair_). Well, my friend, get out if you can. And tell your friends
not to kill any more Romans in the market place. Otherwise my
soldiers, who do not share my celebrated clemency, will probably kill
you. Britannus: pass the word to the guard; and fetch my armor.
(_Britannus runs out. Rufio returns._) Well?
RUFIO (_pointing from the loggia to a cloud of smoke drifting over the
harbor_). See there! (_Pothinus runs eagerly up the steps to look
out._)
CAESAR. What, ablaze already! Impossible!
RUFIO. Yes, five good ships, and a barge laden with oil grappled to
each. But it is not my doing: the Egyptians have saved me the trouble.
They have captured the west harbor.
CAESAR (_anxiously_). And the east harbor? The lighthouse, Rufio?
RUFIO (_with a sudden splutter of raging ill usage, coming down to
Caesar and scolding him_). Can I embark a legion in five minutes? The
first cohort is already on the beach. We can do no more. If you want
faster work, come and do it yourself?
CAESAR (_soothing him_). Good, good. Patience, Rufio, patience.
RUFIO. Patience! Who is impatient here, you or I? Would I be here, if
I could not oversee them from that balcony?
CAESAR. Forgive me, Rufio; and (_anxiously_) hurry them as much as----
_He is interrupted by an outcry as of an old man in the extremity of
misfortune. It draws near rapidly; and Theodotus rushes in, tearing
his hair, and squeaking the most lamentable exclamations. Rufio steps
back to stare at him, amazed at his frantic condition. Pothinus turns
to listen._
THEODOTUS (_on the steps, with uplifted arms_). Horror unspeakable!
Woe, alas! Help!
RUFIO. What now?
CAESAR (_frowning_). Who is slain?
THEODOTUS. Slain! Oh, worse than the death of ten thousand men! Loss
irreparable to mankind!
RUFIO. What has happened, man?
THEODOTUS (_rushing down the hall between them_). The fire has spread
from your ships. The first of the seven wonders of the world perishes.
The library of Alexandria is in flames.
RUFIO. Psha! (_Quite relieved, he goes up to the loggia and watches
the preparations of the troops on the beach._)
CAESAR. Is that all?
THEODOTUS (_unable to believe his senses_). All! Caesar: will you go
down to posterity as a barbarous soldier too ignorant to know the
value of books?
CAESAR. Theodotus: I am an author myself; and I tell you it is better
that the Egyptians should live their lives than dream them away with
the help of books.
THEODOTUS (_kneeling, with genuine literary emotion: the passion of
the pedant_). Caesar: once in ten generations of men, the world gains
an immortal book.
CAESAR (_inflexible_). If it did not flatter mankind, the common
executioner would burn it.
THEODOTUS. Without history, death would lay you beside your meanest
soldier.
CAESAR. Death will do that in any case. I ask no better grave.
THEODOTUS. What is burning there is the memory of mankind.
CAESAR. A shameful memory. Let it burn.
THEODOTUS (_wildly_). Will you destroy the past?
CAESAR. Ay, and build the future with its ruins. (_Theodotus, in
despair, strikes himself on the temples with his fists._) But harken,
Theodotus, teacher of kings: you who valued Pompey's head no more than
a shepherd values an onion, and who now kneel to me, with tears in
your old eyes, to plead for a few sheepskins scrawled with errors. I
cannot spare you a man or a bucket of water just now; but you shall
pass freely out of the palace. Now, away with you to Achillas; and
borrow his legions to put out the fire. (_He hurries him to the
steps._)
POTHINUS (_significantly_). You understand, Theodotus: I remain a
prisoner.
THEODOTUS. A prisoner!
CAESAR. Will you stay to talk whilst the memory of mankind is burning?
(_Calling through the loggia_) Ho there! Pass Theodotus out. (_To
Theodotus_) Away with you.
THEODOTUS (_to Pothinus_). I must go to save the library. (_He hurries
out._)
CAESAR. Follow him to the gate, Pothinus. Bid him urge your people to
kill no more of my soldiers, for your sake.
POTHINUS. My life will cost you dear if you take it, Caesar. (_He goes
out after Theodotus._)
_Rufio, absorbed in watching the embarkation, does not notice the
departure of the two Egyptians._
RUFIO (_shouting from the loggia to the beach_). All ready, there?
A CENTURION (_from below_). All ready. We wait for Caesar.
CAESAR. Tell them Caesar is coming--the rogues! (_Calling_)
Britannicus. (_This magniloquent version of his secretary's name is
one of Caesar's jokes. In later years it would have meant, quite
seriously and officially, Conqueror of Britain._)
RUFIO (_calling down_). Push off, all except the longboat. Stand by it
to embark, Caesar's guard there. (_He leaves the balcony and comes
down into the hall._) Where are those Egyptians? Is this more
clemency? Have you let them go?
CAESAR (_chuckling_). I have let Theodotus go to save the library. We
must respect literature, Rufio.
RUFIO (_raging_). Folly on folly's head! I believe if you could bring
back all the dead of Spain, Gaul and Thessaly to life, you would do it
that we might have the trouble of fighting them over again.
CAESAR. Might not the gods destroy the world if their only thought
were to be at peace next year? (_Rufio, out of all patience, turns
away in anger. Caesar suddenly grips his sleeve, and adds slyly in his
ear._) Besides, my friend: every Egyptian we imprison means
imprisoning two Roman soldiers to guard him. Eh?
RUFIO. Agh! I might have known there was some fox's trick behind your
fine talking. (_He gets away from Caesar with an ill-humored shrug,
and goes to the balcony for another look at the preparations; finally
goes out._)
CAESAR. Is Britannus asleep? I sent him for my armor an hour ago.
(_Calling_) Britannicus, thou British islander. Britannicus!
_Cleopatra runs in through the loggia with Caesar's helmet and sword,
snatched from Britannus, who follows her with a cuirass and greaves.
They come down to Caesar, she to his left hand, Britannus to his
right._
CLEOPATRA. I am going to dress you, Caesar. Sit down. (_He obeys._)
These Roman helmets are so becoming! (_She takes off his wreath._) Oh!
(_She bursts out laughing at him._)
CAESAR. What are you laughing at?
CLEOPATRA. You're bald (_beginning with a big B, and ending with a
splutter_).
CAESAR (_almost annoyed_). Cleopatra! (_He rises, for the convenience
of Britannus, who puts the cuirass on him._)
CLEOPATRA. So that is why you wear the wreath--to hide it.
BRITANNUS. Peace, Egyptian: they are the bays of the conqueror. (_He
buckles the cuirass._)
CLEOPATRA. Peace, thou: islander! (_To Caesar_) You should rub your
head with strong spirits of sugar, Caesar. That will make it grow.
CAESAR (_with a wry face_). Cleopatra: do you like to be reminded that
you are very young?
CLEOPATRA (_pouting_). No.
CAESAR (_sitting down again, and setting out his leg for Britannus,
who kneels to put on his greaves_). Neither do I like to be reminded
that I am--middle aged. Let me give you ten of my superfluous years.
That will make you 26 and leave me only--no matter. Is it a bargain?
CLEOPATRA. Agreed. 26, mind. (_She puts the helmet on him._) Oh! How
nice! You look only about 50 in it!
BRITANNUS (_Looking up severely at Cleopatra_). You must not speak in
this manner to Caesar.
CLEOPATRA. Is it true that when Caesar caught you on that island, you
were painted all over blue?
BRITANNUS. Blue is the color worn by all Britons of good standing. In
war we stain our bodies blue; so that though our enemies may strip us
of our clothes and our lives, they cannot strip us of our
respectability. (_He rises._)
CLEOPATRA (_with Caesar's sword_). Let me hang this on. Now you look
splendid. Have they made any statues of you in Rome?
CAESAR. Yes, many statues.
CLEOPATRA. You must send for one and give it to me.
RUFIO (_coming back into the loggia, more impatient than ever_). Now
Caesar: have you done talking? The moment your foot is aboard there
will be no holding our men back: the boats will race one another for
the lighthouse.
CAESAR (_drawing his sword and trying the edge_). Is this well set
to-day, Britannicus? At Pharsalia it was as blunt as a barrel-hoop.
BRITANNUS. It will split one of the Egyptian's hairs to-day, Caesar. I
have set it myself.
CLEOPATRA (_suddenly throwing her arms in terror round Caesar_). Oh,
you are not really going into battle to be killed?
CAESAR. No, Cleopatra. No man goes to battle to be killed.
CLEOPATRA. But they _do_ get killed. My sister's husband was killed in
battle. You must not go. Let _him_ go (_pointing to Rufio. They all
laugh at her_). Oh please, _please_ don't go. What will happen to _me_
if you never come back?
CAESAR (_gravely_). Are you afraid?
CLEOPATRA (_shrinking_). No.
CAESAR (_with quiet authority_). Go to the balcony; and you shall see
us take the Pharos. You must learn to look on battles. Go. (_She goes,
downcast, and looks out from the balcony._) That is well. Now, Rufio.
March.
CLEOPATRA (_suddenly clapping her hands_). Oh, you will not be able to
go!
CAESAR. Why? What now?
CLEOPATRA. They are drying up the harbor with buckets--a multitude of
soldiers--over there (_pointing out across the sea to her left_)--they
are dipping up the water.
RUFIO (_hastening to look_). It is true. The Egyptian army! Crawling
over the edge of the west harbor like locusts. (_With sudden anger he
strides down to Caesar._) This is your accursed clemency, Caesar.
Theodotus has brought them.
CAESAR (_delighted at his own cleverness_). I meant him to, Rufio.
They have come to put out the fire. The library will keep them busy
whilst we seize the lighthouse. Eh? (_He rushes out buoyantly through
the loggia, followed by Britannus._)
RUFIO (_disgustedly_). More foxing! Agh! (_He rushes off. A shout from
the soldiers announces the appearance of Caesar below._)
CENTURION (_below_). All aboard. Give way there. (_Another shout._)
CLEOPATRA (_waving her scarf through the loggia arch_). Goodbye,
goodbye, dear Caesar. Come back safe. Goodbye!