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.