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!