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.)