CAESAR AND CLEOPATRA


By George Bernard Shaw





ACT I

An October night on the Syrian border of Egypt towards the end of
the XXXIII Dynasty, in the year 706 by Roman computation, afterwards
reckoned by Christian computation as 48 B.C. A great radiance of silver
fire, the dawn of a moonlit night, is rising in the east. The stars
and the cloudless sky are our own contemporaries, nineteen and a half
centuries younger than we know them; but you would not guess that from
their appearance. Below them are two notable drawbacks of civilization:
a palace, and soldiers. The palace, an old, low, Syrian building of
whitened mud, is not so ugly as Buckingham Palace; and the officers in
the courtyard are more highly civilized than modern English officers:
for example, they do not dig up the corpses of their dead enemies and
mutilate them, as we dug up Cromwell and the Mahdi. They are in two
groups: one intent on the gambling of their captain Belzanor, a warrior
of fifty, who, with his spear on the ground beside his knee, is stooping
to throw dice with a sly-looking young Persian recruit; the other
gathered about a guardsman who has just finished telling a naughty
story (still current in English barracks) at which they are laughing
uproariously. They are about a dozen in number, all highly aristocratic
young Egyptian guardsmen, handsomely equipped with weapons and armor,
very unEnglish in point of not being ashamed of and uncomfortable in
their professional dress; on the contrary, rather ostentatiously and
arrogantly warlike, as valuing themselves on their military caste.

Belzanor is a typical veteran, tough and wilful; prompt, capable and
crafty where brute force will serve; helpless and boyish when it
will not: an effective sergeant, an incompetent general, a deplorable
dictator. Would, if influentially connected, be employed in the two last
capacities by a modern European State on the strength of his success
in the first. Is rather to be pitied just now in view of the fact that
Julius Caesar is invading his country. Not knowing this, is intent on
his game with the Persian, whom, as a foreigner, he considers quite
capable of cheating him.

His subalterns are mostly handsome young fellows whose interest in
the game and the story symbolizes with tolerable completeness the main
interests in life of which they are conscious. Their spears are leaning
against the walls, or lying on the ground ready to their hands. The
corner of the courtyard forms a triangle of which one side is the front
of the palace, with a doorway, the other a wall with a gateway. The
storytellers are on the palace side: the gamblers, on the gateway side.
Close to the gateway, against the wall, is a stone block high enough
to enable a Nubian sentinel, standing on it, to look over the wall. The
yard is lighted by a torch stuck in the wall. As the laughter from the
group round the storyteller dies away, the kneeling Persian, winning the
throw, snatches up the stake from the ground.

BELZANOR. By Apis, Persian, thy gods are good to thee.

THE PERSIAN. Try yet again, O captain. Double or quits!

BELZANOR. No more. I am not in the vein.

THE SENTINEL (poising his javelin as he peers over the wall). Stand. Who
goes there?

They all start, listening. A strange voice replies from without.

VOICE. The bearer of evil tidings.

BELZANOR (calling to the sentry). Pass him.

THE SENTINEL. (grounding his javelin). Draw near, O bearer of evil
tidings.

BELZANOR (pocketing the dice and picking up his spear). Let us receive
this man with honor. He bears evil tidings.

The guardsmen seize their spears and gather about the gate, leaving a
way through for the new comer.

PERSIAN (rising from his knee). Are evil tidings, then, honorable?

BELZANOR. O barbarous Persian, hear my instruction. In Egypt the bearer
of good tidings is sacrificed to the gods as a thank offering but no
god will accept the blood of the messenger of evil. When we have good
tidings, we are careful to send them in the mouth of the cheapest slave
we can find. Evil tidings are borne by young noblemen who desire to
bring themselves into notice. (They join the rest at the gate.)

THE SENTINEL. Pass, O young captain; and bow the head in the House of
the Queen.

VOICE. Go anoint thy javelin with fat of swine, O Blackamoor; for before
morning the Romans will make thee eat it to the very butt.

The owner of the voice, a fairhaired dandy, dressed in a different
fashion to that affected by the guardsmen, but no less extravagantly,
comes through the gateway laughing. He is somewhat battle-stained; and
his left forearm, bandaged, comes through a torn sleeve. In his right
hand he carries a Roman sword in its sheath. He swaggers down the
courtyard, the Persian on his right, Belzanor on his left, and the
guardsmen crowding down behind him.

BELZANOR. Who art thou that laughest in the House of Cleopatra the
Queen, and in the teeth of Belzanor, the captain of her guard?

THE NEW COMER. I am Bel Affris, descended from the gods.

BELZANOR (ceremoniously). Hail, cousin!

ALL (except the Persian). Hail, cousin!

PERSIAN. All the Queen's guards are descended from the gods, O stranger,
save myself. I am Persian, and descended from many kings.

BEL AFFRIS (to the guardsmen). Hail, cousins! (To the Persian,
condescendingly) Hail, mortal!

BELZANOR. You have been in battle, Bel Affris; and you are a soldier
among soldiers. You will not let the Queen's women have the first of
your tidings.

BEL AFFRIS. I have no tidings, except that we shall have our throats cut
presently, women, soldiers, and all.

PERSIAN (to Belzanor). I told you so.

THE SENTINEL (who has been listening). Woe, alas!

BEL AFFRIS (calling to him). Peace, peace, poor Ethiop: destiny is with
the gods who painted thee black. (To Belzanor) What has this mortal
(indicating the Persian) told you?

BELZANOR. He says that the Roman Julius Caesar, who has landed on our
shores with a handful of followers, will make himself master of Egypt.
He is afraid of the Roman soldiers. (The guardsmen laugh with boisterous
scorn.) Peasants, brought up to scare crows and follow the plough. Sons
of smiths and millers and tanners! And we nobles, consecrated to arms,
descended from the gods!

PERSIAN. Belzanor: the gods are not always good to their poor relations.

BELZANOR (hotly, to the Persian). Man to man, are we worse than the
slaves of Caesar?

BEL AFFRIS (stepping between them). Listen, cousin. Man to man, we
Egyptians are as gods above the Romans.

THE GUARDSMEN (exultingly). Aha!

BEL AFFRIS. But this Caesar does not pit man against man: he throws
a legion at you where you are weakest as he throws a stone from a
catapult; and that legion is as a man with one head, a thousand arms,
and no religion. I have fought against them; and I know.

BELZANOR (derisively). Were you frightened, cousin?

The guardsmen roar with laughter, their eyes sparkling at the wit of
their captain.

BEL AFFRIS. No, cousin; but I was beaten. They were frightened
(perhaps); but they scattered us like chaff.

The guardsmen, much damped, utter a growl of contemptuous disgust.

BELZANOR. Could you not die?

BEL AFFRIS. No: that was too easy to be worthy of a descendant of the
gods. Besides, there was no time: all was over in a moment. The attack
came just where we least expected it.

BELZANOR. That shows that the Romans are cowards.

BEL AFFRIS. They care nothing about cowardice, these Romans: they fight
to win. The pride and honor of war are nothing to them.

PERSIAN. Tell us the tale of the battle. What befell?

THE GUARDSMEN (gathering eagerly round Bel Afris). Ay: the tale of the
battle.

BEL AFFRIS. Know then, that I am a novice in the guard of the temple of
Ra in Memphis, serving neither Cleopatra nor her brother Ptolemy, but
only the high gods. We went a journey to inquire of Ptolemy why he had
driven Cleopatra into Syria, and how we of Egypt should deal with the
Roman Pompey, newly come to our shores after his defeat by Caesar at
Pharsalia. What, think ye, did we learn? Even that Caesar is coming
also in hot pursuit of his foe, and that Ptolemy has slain Pompey,
whose severed head he holds in readiness to present to the conqueror.
(Sensation among the guardsmen.) Nay, more: we found that Caesar is
already come; for we had not made half a day's journey on our way back
when we came upon a city rabble flying from his legions, whose landing
they had gone out to withstand.

BELZANOR. And ye, the temple guard! Did you not withstand these legions?

BEL AFFRIS. What man could, that we did. But there came the sound of a
trumpet whose voice was as the cursing of a black mountain. Then saw we
a moving wall of shields coming towards us. You know how the heart burns
when you charge a fortified wall; but how if the fortified wall were to
charge YOU?

THE PERSIAN (exulting in having told them so). Did I not say it?

BEL AFFRIS. When the wall came nigh, it changed into a line of
men--common fellows enough, with helmets, leather tunics, and
breastplates. Every man of them flung his javelin: the one that came my
way drove through my shield as through a papyrus--lo there! (he points
to the bandage on his left arm) and would have gone through my neck had
I not stooped. They were charging at the double then, and were upon us
with short swords almost as soon as their javelins. When a man is close
to you with such a sword, you can do nothing with our weapons: they are
all too long.

THE PERSIAN. What did you do?

BEL AFFRIS. Doubled my fist and smote my Roman on the sharpness of his
jaw. He was but mortal after all: he lay down in a stupor; and I took
his sword and laid it on. (Drawing the sword) Lo! a Roman sword with
Roman blood on it!

THE GUARDSMEN (approvingly). Good! (They take the sword and hand it
round, examining it curiously.)

THE PERSIAN. And your men?

BEL AFFRIS. Fled. Scattered like sheep.

BELZANOR (furiously). The cowardly slaves! Leaving the descendants of
the gods to be butchered!

BEL AFFRIS (with acid coolness). The descendants of the gods did not
stay to be butchered, cousin. The battle was not to the strong; but the
race was to the swift. The Romans, who have no chariots, sent a cloud of
horsemen in pursuit, and slew multitudes. Then our high priest's captain
rallied a dozen descendants of the gods and exhorted us to die fighting.
I said to myself: surely it is safer to stand than to lose my breath
and be stabbed in the back; so I joined our captain and stood. Then the
Romans treated us with respect; for no man attacks a lion when the field
is full of sheep, except for the pride and honor of war, of which these
Romans know nothing. So we escaped with our lives; and I am come to warn
you that you must open your gates to Caesar; for his advance guard is
scarce an hour behind me; and not an Egyptian warrior is left standing
between you and his legions.

THE SENTINEL. Woe, alas! (He throws down his javelin and flies into the
palace.)

BELZANOR. Nail him to the door, quick! (The guardsmen rush for him with
their spears; but he is too quick for them.) Now this news will run
through the palace like fire through stubble.

BEL AFFRIS. What shall we do to save the women from the Romans?

BELZANOR. Why not kill them?

PERSIAN. Because we should have to pay blood money for some of them.
Better let the Romans kill them: it is cheaper.

BELZANOR (awestruck at his brain power). O subtle one! O serpent!

BEL AFFRIS. But your Queen?

BELZANOR. True: we must carry off Cleopatra.

BEL AFFRIS. Will ye not await her command?

BELZANOR. Command! A girl of sixteen! Not we. At Memphis ye deem her a
Queen: here we know better. I will take her on the crupper of my horse.
When we soldiers have carried her out of Caesar's reach, then the
priests and the nurses and the rest of them can pretend she is a queen
again, and put their commands into her mouth.

PERSIAN. Listen to me, Belzanor.

BELZANOR. Speak, O subtle beyond thy years.

THE PERSIAN. Cleopatra's brother Ptolemy is at war with her. Let us sell
her to him.

THE GUARDSMEN. O subtle one! O serpent!

BELZANOR. We dare not. We are descended from the gods; but Cleopatra is
descended from the river Nile; and the lands of our fathers will grow no
grain if the Nile rises not to water them. Without our father's gifts we
should live the lives of dogs.

PERSIAN. It is true: the Queen's guard cannot live on its pay. But hear
me further, O ye kinsmen of Osiris.

THE GUARDSMEN. Speak, O subtle one. Hear the serpent begotten!

PERSIAN. Have I heretofore spoken truly to you of Caesar, when you
thought I mocked you?

GUARDSMEN. Truly, truly.

BELZANOR (reluctantly admitting it). So Bel Affris says.

PERSIAN. Hear more of him, then. This Caesar is a great lover of women:
he makes them his friends and counselors.

BELZANOR. Faugh! This rule of women will be the ruin of Egypt.

THE PERSIAN. Let it rather be the ruin of Rome! Caesar grows old now:
he is past fifty and full of labors and battles. He is too old for the
young women; and the old women are too wise to worship him.

BEL AFFRIS. Take heed, Persian. Caesar is by this time almost within
earshot.

PERSIAN. Cleopatra is not yet a woman: neither is she wise. But she
already troubles men's wisdom.

BELZANOR. Ay: that is because she is descended from the river Nile and a
black kitten of the sacred White Cat. What then?

PERSIAN. Why, sell her secretly to Ptolemy, and then offer ourselves to
Caesar as volunteers to fight for the overthrow of her brother and the
rescue of our Queen, the Great Granddaughter of the Nile.

THE GUARDSMEN. O serpent!

PERSIAN. He will listen to us if we come with her picture in our mouths.
He will conquer and kill her brother, and reign in Egypt with Cleopatra
for his Queen. And we shall be her guard.

GUARDSMEN. O subtlest of all the serpents! O admiration! O wisdom!

BEL AFFRIS. He will also have arrived before you have done talking, O
word spinner.

BELZANOR. That is true. (An affrighted uproar in the palace interrupts
him.) Quick: the flight has begun: guard the door. (They rush to
the door and form a cordon before it with their spears. A mob of
women-servants and nurses surges out. Those in front recoil from
the spears, screaming to those behind to keep back. Belzanor's
voice dominates the disturbance as he shouts) Back there. In again,
unprofitable cattle.

THE GUARDSMEN. Back, unprofitable cattle.

BELZANOR. Send us out Ftatateeta, the Queen's chief nurse.

THE WOMEN (calling into the palace). Ftatateeta, Ftatateeta. Come, come.
Speak to Belzanor.

A WOMAN. Oh, keep back. You are thrusting me on the spearheads.

A huge grim woman, her face covered with a network of tiny wrinkles, and
her eyes old, large, and wise; sinewy handed, very tall, very strong;
with the mouth of a bloodhound and the jaws of a bulldog, appears on the
threshold. She is dressed like a person of consequence in the palace,
and confronts the guardsmen insolently.

FTATATEETA. Make way for the Queen's chief nurse.

BELZANOR. (with solemn arrogance). Ftatateeta: I am Belzanor, the
captain of the Queen's guard, descended from the gods.

FTATATEETA. (retorting his arrogance with interest). Belzanor: I am
Ftatateeta, the Queen's chief nurse; and your divine ancestors were
proud to be painted on the wall in the pyramids of the kings whom my
fathers served.

The women laugh triumphantly.

BELZANOR (with grim humor) Ftatateeta: daughter of a long-tongued,
swivel-eyed chameleon, the Romans are at hand. (A cry of terror from the
women: they would fly but for the spears.) Not even the descendants
of the gods can resist them; for they have each man seven arms, each
carrying seven spears. The blood in their veins is boiling quicksilver;
and their wives become mothers in three hours, and are slain and eaten
the next day.

A shudder of horror from the women. Ftatateeta, despising them and
scorning the soldiers, pushes her way through the crowd and confronts
the spear points undismayed.

FTATATEETA. Then fly and save yourselves, O cowardly sons of the cheap
clay gods that are sold to fish porters; and leave us to shift for
ourselves.

BELZANOR. Not until you have first done our bidding, O terror of
manhood. Bring out Cleopatra the Queen to us and then go whither you
will.

FTATATEETA (with a derisive laugh). Now I know why the gods have taken
her out of our hands. (The guardsmen start and look at one another).
Know, thou foolish soldier, that the Queen has been missing since an
hour past sun down.

BELZANOR (furiously). Hag: you have hidden her to sell to Caesar or her
brother. (He grasps her by the left wrist, and drags her, helped by a
few of the guard, to the middle of the courtyard, where, as they fling
her on her knees, he draws a murderous looking knife.) Where is she?
Where is she? or--(He threatens to cut her throat.)

FTATATEETA (savagely). Touch me, dog; and the Nile will not rise on your
fields for seven times seven years of famine.

BELZANOR (frightened, but desperate). I will sacrifice: I will pay. Or
stay. (To the Persian) You, O subtle one: your father's lands lie far
from the Nile. Slay her.

PERSIAN (threatening her with his knife). Persia has but one god; yet he
loves the blood of old women. Where is Cleopatra?

FTATATEETA. Persian: as Osiris lives, I do not know. I chide her for
bringing evil days upon us by talking to the sacred cats of the priests,
and carrying them in her arms. I told her she would be left alone here
when the Romans came as a punishment for her disobedience. And now she
is gone--run away--hidden. I speak the truth. I call Osiris to witness.

THE WOMEN (protesting officiously). She speaks the truth, Belzanor.

BELZANOR. You have frightened the child: she is hiding.
Search--quick--into the palace--search every corner.

The guards, led by Belzanor, shoulder their way into the palace through
the flying crowd of women, who escape through the courtyard gate.

FTATATEETA (screaming). Sacrilege! Men in the Queen's chambers! Sa--
(Her voice dies away as the Persian puts his knife to her throat.)

BEL AFFRIS (laying a hand on Ftatateeta's left shoulder). Forbear her
yet a moment, Persian. (To Ftatateeta, very significantly) Mother: your
gods are asleep or away hunting; and the sword is at your throat. Bring
us to where the Queen is hid, and you shall live.

FTATATEETA (contemptuously). Who shall stay the sword in the hand of a
fool, if the high gods put it there? Listen to me, ye young men without
understanding. Cleopatra fears me; but she fears the Romans more. There
is but one power greater in her eyes than the wrath of the Queen's nurse
and the cruelty of Caesar; and that is the power of the Sphinx that sits
in the desert watching the way to the sea. What she would have it know,
she tells into the ears of the sacred cats; and on her birthday she
sacrifices to it and decks it with poppies. Go ye therefore into the
desert and seek Cleopatra in the shadow of the Sphinx; and on your heads
see to it that no harm comes to her.

BEL AFFRIS (to the Persian). May we believe this, O subtle one?

PERSIAN. Which way come the Romans?

BEL AFFRIS. Over the desert, from the sea, by this very Sphinx.

PERSIAN (to Ftatateeta). O mother of guile! O aspic's tongue! You have
made up this tale so that we two may go into the desert and perish on
the spears of the Romans. (Lifting his knife) Taste death.

FTATATEETA. Not from thee, baby. (She snatches his ankle from under
him and flies stooping along the palace wall vanishing in the darkness
within its precinct. Bel Affris roars with laughter as the Persian
tumbles. The guardsmen rush out of the palace with Belzanor and a mob of
fugitives, mostly carrying bundles.)

PERSIAN. Have you found Cleopatra?

BELZANOR. She is gone. We have searched every corner.

THE NUBIAN SENTINEL (appearing at the door of the palace). Woe! Alas!
Fly, fly!

BELZANOR. What is the matter now?

THE NUBIAN SENTINEL. The sacred white cat has been stolen. Woe! Woe!
(General panic. They all fly with cries of consternation. The torch is
thrown down and extinguished in the rush. Darkness. The noise of the
fugitives dies away. Dead silence. Suspense. Then the blackness and
stillness breaks softly into silver mist and strange airs as the
windswept harp of Memnon plays at the dawning of the moon. It rises full
over the desert; and a vast horizon comes into relief, broken by a huge
shape which soon reveals itself in the spreading radiance as a Sphinx
pedestalled on the sands. The light still clears, until the upraised
eyes of the image are distinguished looking straight forward and upward
in infinite fearless vigil, and a mass of color between its great paws
defines itself as a heap of red poppies on which a girl lies motionless,
her silken vest heaving gently and regularly with the breathing of
a dreamless sleeper, and her braided hair glittering in a shaft of
moonlight like a bird's wing.

Suddenly there comes from afar a vaguely fearful sound [it might be
the bellow of a Minotaur softened by great distance] and Memnon's
music stops. Silence: then a few faint high-ringing trumpet notes. Then
silence again. Then a man comes from the south with stealing steps,
ravished by the mystery of the night, all wonder, and halts, lost in
contemplation, opposite the left flank of the Sphinx, whose bosom, with
its burden, is hidden from him by its massive shoulder.)

THE MAN. Hail, Sphinx: salutation from Julius Caesar! I have wandered in
many lands, seeking the lost regions from which my birth into this world
exiled me, and the company of creatures such as I myself. I have found
flocks and pastures, men and cities, but no other Caesar, no air native
to me, no man kindred to me, none who can do my day's deed, and think my
night's thought. In the little world yonder, Sphinx, my place is as
high as yours in this great desert; only I wander, and you sit still; I
conquer, and you endure; I work and wonder, you watch and wait; I look
up and am dazzled, look down and am darkened, look round and am puzzled,
whilst your eyes never turn from looking out--out of the world--to the
lost region--the home from which we have strayed. Sphinx, you and I,
strangers to the race of men, are no strangers to one another: have I
not been conscious of you and of this place since I was born? Rome is a
madman's dream: this is my Reality. These starry lamps of yours I have
seen from afar in Gaul, in Britain, in Spain, in Thessaly, signalling
great secrets to some eternal sentinel below, whose post I never could
find. And here at last is their sentinel--an image of the constant and
immortal part of my life, silent, full of thoughts, alone in the silver
desert. Sphinx, Sphinx: I have climbed mountains at night to hear in
the distance the stealthy footfall of the winds that chase your sands in
forbidden play--our invisible children, O Sphinx, laughing in whispers.
My way hither was the way of destiny; for I am he of whose genius you
are the symbol: part brute, part woman, and part God--nothing of man in
me at all. Have I read your riddle, Sphinx?

THE GIRL (who has wakened, and peeped cautiously from her nest to see
who is speaking). Old gentleman.

CAESAR (starting violently, and clutching his sword). Immortal gods!

THE GIRL. Old gentleman: don't run away.

CAESAR (stupefied). "Old gentleman: don't run away!!!" This! To Julius
Caesar!

THE GIRL (urgently). Old gentleman.

CAESAR. Sphinx: you presume on your centuries. I am younger than you,
though your voice is but a girl's voice as yet.

THE GIRL. Climb up here, quickly; or the Romans will come and eat you.

CAESAR (running forward past the Sphinx's shoulder, and seeing her). A
child at its breast! A divine child!

THE GIRL. Come up quickly. You must get up at its side and creep round.

CAESAR (amazed). Who are you?

THE GIRL. Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt.

CAESAR. Queen of the Gypsies, you mean.

CLEOPATRA. You must not be disrespectful to me, or the Sphinx will let
the Romans eat you. Come up. It is quite cosy here.

CAESAR (to himself). What a dream! What a magnificent dream! Only let me
not wake, and I will conquer ten continents to pay for dreaming it out
to the end. (He climbs to the Sphinx's flank, and presently reappears to
her on the pedestal, stepping round its right shoulder.)

CLEOPATRA. Take care. That's right. Now sit down: you may have its
other paw. (She seats herself comfortably on its left paw.) It is
very powerful and will protect us; but (shivering, and with plaintive
loneliness) it would not take any notice of me or keep me company. I am
glad you have come: I was very lonely. Did you happen to see a white cat
anywhere?

CAESAR (sitting slowly down on the right paw in extreme wonderment).
Have you lost one?

CLEOPATRA. Yes: the sacred white cat: is it not dreadful? I brought him
here to sacrifice him to the Sphinx; but when we got a little way from
the city a black cat called him, and he jumped out of my arms and
ran away to it. Do you think that the black cat can have been my
great-great-great-grandmother?

CAESAR (staring at her). Your great-great-great-grandmother! Well, why
not? Nothing would surprise me on this night of nights.

CLEOPATRA. I think it must have been. My great-grandmother's
great-grandmother was a black kitten of the sacred white cat; and the
river Nile made her his seventh wife. That is why my hair is so wavy.
And I always want to be let do as I like, no matter whether it is the
will of the gods or not: that is because my blood is made with Nile
water.

CAESAR. What are you doing here at this time of night? Do you live here?

CLEOPATRA. Of course not: I am the Queen; and I shall live in the palace
at Alexandria when I have killed my brother, who drove me out of it.
When I am old enough I shall do just what I like. I shall be able to
poison the slaves and see them wriggle, and pretend to Ftatateeta that
she is going to be put into the fiery furnace.

CAESAR. Hm! Meanwhile why are you not at home and in bed?

CLEOPATRA. Because the Romans are coming to eat us all. YOU are not at
home and in bed either.

CAESAR (with conviction). Yes I am. I live in a tent; and I am now in
that tent, fast asleep and dreaming. Do you suppose that I believe you
are real, you impossible little dream witch?

CLEOPATRA (giggling and leaning trustfully towards him). You are a funny
old gentleman. I like you.

CAESAR. Ah, that spoils the dream. Why don't you dream that I am young?

CLEOPATRA. I wish you were; only I think I should be more afraid of you.
I like men, especially young men with round strong arms; but I am afraid
of them. You are old and rather thin and stringy; but you have a nice
voice; and I like to have somebody to talk to, though I think you are a
little mad. It is the moon that makes you talk to yourself in that silly
way.

CAESAR. What! you heard that, did you? I was saying my prayers to the
great Sphinx.

CLEOPATRA. But this isn't the great Sphinx.

CAESAR (much disappointed, looking up at the statue). What!

CLEOPATRA. This is only a dear little kitten of the Sphinx. Why, the
great Sphinx is so big that it has a temple between its paws. This is
my pet Sphinx. Tell me: do you think the Romans have any sorcerers who
could take us away from the Sphinx by magic?

CAESAR. Why? Are you afraid of the Romans?

CLEOPATRA (very seriously). Oh, they would eat us if they caught us.
They are barbarians. Their chief is called Julius Caesar. His father
was a tiger and his mother a burning mountain; and his nose is like an
elephant's trunk. (Caesar involuntarily rubs his nose.) They all have
long noses, and ivory tusks, and little tails, and seven arms with a
hundred arrows in each; and they live on human flesh.

CAESAR. Would you like me to show you a real Roman?

CLEOPATRA (terrified). No. You are frightening me.

CAESAR. No matter: this is only a dream--

CLEOPATRA (excitedly). It is not a dream: it is not a dream. See, see.
(She plucks a pin from her hair and jabs it repeatedly into his arm.)

CAESAR. Ffff--Stop. (Wrathfully) How dare you?

CLEOPATRA (abashed). You said you were dreaming. (Whimpering) I only
wanted to show you--

CAESAR (gently). Come, come: don't cry. A queen mustn't cry. (He rubs
his arm, wondering at the reality of the smart.) Am I awake? (He strikes
his hand against the Sphinx to test its solidity. It feels so real
that he begins to be alarmed, and says perplexedly) Yes, I--(quite
panic-stricken) no: impossible: madness, madness! (Desperately) Back to
camp--to camp. (He rises to spring down from the pedestal.)

CLEOPATRA (flinging her arms in terror round him). No: you shan't leave
me. No, no, no: don't go. I'm afraid--afraid of the Romans.

CAESAR (as the conviction that he is really awake forces itself on him).
Cleopatra: can you see my face well?

CLEOPATRA. Yes. It is so white in the moonlight.

CAESAR. Are you sure it is the moonlight that makes me look whiter than
an Egyptian? (Grimly) Do you notice that I have a rather long nose?

CLEOPATRA (recoiling, paralyzed by a terrible suspicion). Oh!

CAESAR. It is a Roman nose, Cleopatra.

CLEOPATRA. Ah! (With a piercing scream she springs up; darts round the
left shoulder of the Sphinx; scrambles down to the sand; and falls on
her knees in frantic supplication, shrieking) Bite him in two, Sphinx:
bite him in two. I meant to sacrifice the white cat--I did indeed--I
(Caesar, who has slipped down from the pedestal, touches her on the
shoulder) Ah! (She buries her head in her arms.)

CAESAR. Cleopatra: shall I teach you a way to prevent Caesar from eating
you?

CLEOPATRA (clinging to him piteously). Oh do, do, do. I will steal
Ftatateeta's jewels and give them to you. I will make the river Nile
water your lands twice a year.

CAESAR. Peace, peace, my child. Your gods are afraid of the Romans:
you see the Sphinx dare not bite me, nor prevent me carrying you off to
Julius Caesar.

CLEOPATRA (in pleading murmurings). You won't, you won't. You said you
wouldn't.

CAESAR. Caesar never eats women.

CLEOPATRA (springing up full of hope). What!

CAESAR (impressively). But he eats girls (she relapses) and cats.
Now you are a silly little girl; and you are descended from the black
kitten. You are both a girl and a cat.

CLEOPATRA (trembling). And will he eat me?

CAESAR. Yes; unless you make him believe that you are a woman.

CLEOPATRA. Oh, you must get a sorcerer to make a woman of me. Are you a
sorcerer?

CAESAR. Perhaps. But it will take a long time; and this very night you
must stand face to face with Caesar in the palace of your fathers.

CLEOPATRA. No, no. I daren't.

CAESAR. Whatever dread may be in your soul--however terrible Caesar may
be to you--you must confront him as a brave woman and a great queen;
and you must feel no fear. If your hand shakes: if your voice quavers;
then--night and death! (She moans.) But if he thinks you worthy to rule,
he will set you on the throne by his side and make you the real ruler of
Egypt.

CLEOPATRA (despairingly). No: he will find me out: he will find me out.

CAESAR (rather mournfully). He is easily deceived by women. Their eyes
dazzle him; and he sees them not as they are, but as he wishes them to
appear to him.

CLEOPATRA (hopefully). Then we will cheat him. I will put on
Ftatateeta's head-dress; and he will think me quite an old woman.

CAESAR. If you do that he will eat you at one mouthful.

CLEOPATRA. But I will give him a cake with my magic opal and seven hairs
of the white cat baked in it; and--

CAESAR (abruptly). Pah! you are a little fool. He will eat your cake and
you too. (He turns contemptuously from her.)

CLEOPATRA (running after him and clinging to him). Oh, please, PLEASE!
I will do whatever you tell me. I will be good! I will be your slave.
(Again the terrible bellowing note sounds across the desert, now closer
at hand. It is the bucina, the Roman war trumpet.)

CAESAR. Hark!

CLEOPATRA (trembling). What was that?

CAESAR. Caesar's voice.

CLEOPATRA (pulling at his hand). Let us run away. Come. Oh, come.

CAESAR. You are safe with me until you stand on your throne to receive
Caesar. Now lead me thither.

CLEOPATRA (only too glad to get away). I will, I will. (Again the
bucina.) Oh, come, come, come: the gods are angry. Do you feel the earth
shaking?

CAESAR. It is the tread of Caesar's legions.

CLEOPATRA (drawing him away). This way, quickly. And let us look for the
white cat as we go. It is he that has turned you into a Roman.

CAESAR. Incorrigible, oh, incorrigible! Away! (He follows her, the
bucina sounding louder as they steal across the desert. The moonlight
wanes: the horizon again shows black against the sky, broken only by the
fantastic silhouette of the Sphinx. The sky itself vanishes in darkness,
from which there is no relief until the gleam of a distant torch falls
on great Egyptian pillars supporting the roof of a majestic corridor.
At the further end of this corridor a Nubian slave appears carrying the
torch. Caesar, still led by Cleopatra, follows him. They come down the
corridor, Caesar peering keenly about at the strange architecture, and
at the pillar shadows between which, as the passing torch makes them
hurry noiselessly backwards, figures of men with wings and hawks' heads,
and vast black marble cats, seem to flit in and out of ambush. Further
along, the wall turns a corner and makes a spacious transept in which
Caesar sees, on his right, a throne, and behind the throne a door. On
each side of the throne is a slender pillar with a lamp on it.)

CAESAR. What place is this?

CLEOPATRA. This is where I sit on the throne when I am allowed to wear
my crown and robes. (The slave holds his torch to show the throne.)

CAESAR. Order the slave to light the lamps.

CLEOPATRA (shyly). Do you think I may?

CAESAR. Of course. You are the Queen. (She hesitates.) Go on.

CLEOPATRA (timidly, to the slave). Light all the lamps.

FTATATEETA (suddenly coming from behind the throne). Stop. (The slave
stops. She turns sternly to Cleopatra, who quails like a naughty child.)
Who is this you have with you; and how dare you order the lamps to be
lighted without my permission? (Cleopatra is dumb with apprehension.)

CAESAR. Who is she?

CLEOPATRA. Ftatateeta.

FTATATEETA (arrogantly). Chief nurse to--

CAESAR (cutting her short). I speak to the Queen. Be silent. (To
Cleopatra) Is this how your servants know their places? Send her away;
and you (to the slave) do as the Queen has bidden. (The slave lights the
lamps. Meanwhile Cleopatra stands hesitating, afraid of Ftatateeta.) You
are the Queen: send her away.

CLEOPATRA (cajoling). Ftatateeta, dear: you must go away--just for a
little.

CAESAR. You are not commanding her to go away: you are begging her. You
are no Queen. You will be eaten. Farewell. (He turns to go.)

CLEOPATRA (clutching him). No, no, no. Don't leave me.

CAESAR. A Roman does not stay with queens who are afraid of their
slaves.

CLEOPATRA. I am not afraid. Indeed I am not afraid.

FTATATEETA. We shall see who is afraid here. (Menacingly) Cleopatra--

CAESAR. On your knees, woman: am I also a child that you dare trifle
with me? (He points to the floor at Cleopatra's feet. Ftatateeta, half
cowed, half savage, hesitates. Caesar calls to the Nubian) Slave. (The
Nubian comes to him.) Can you cut off a head? (The Nubian nods and
grins ecstatically, showing all his teeth. Caesar takes his sword by
the scabbard, ready to offer the hilt to the Nubian, and turns again
to Ftatateeta, repeating his gesture.) Have you remembered yourself,
mistress?

Ftatateeta, crushed, kneels before Cleopatra, who can hardly believe her
eyes.

FTATATEETA (hoarsely). O Queen, forget not thy servant in the days of
thy greatness.

CLEOPATRA (blazing with excitement). Go. Begone. Go away. (Ftatateeta
rises with stooped head, and moves backwards towards the door. Cleopatra
watches her submission eagerly, almost clapping her hands, which are
trembling. Suddenly she cries) Give me something to beat her with.
(She snatches a snake-skin from the throne and dashes after Ftatateeta,
whirling it like a scourge in the air. Caesar makes a bound and manages
to catch her and hold her while Ftatateeta escapes.)

CAESAR. You scratch, kitten, do you?

CLEOPATRA (breaking from him). I will beat somebody. I will beat him.
(She attacks the slave.) There, there, there! (The slave flies for his
life up the corridor and vanishes. She throws the snake-skin away and
jumps on the step of the throne with her arms waving, crying) I am a
real Queen at last--a real, real Queen! Cleopatra the Queen! (Caesar
shakes his head dubiously, the advantage of the change seeming open to
question from the point of view of the general welfare of Egypt. She
turns and looks at him exultantly. Then she jumps down from the step,
runs to him, and flings her arms round him rapturously, crying) Oh, I
love you for making me a Queen.

CAESAR. But queens love only kings.

CLEOPATRA. I will make all the men I love kings. I will make you a king.
I will have many young kings, with round, strong arms; and when I am
tired of them I will whip them to death; but you shall always be my
king: my nice, kind, wise, proud old king.

CAESAR. Oh, my wrinkles, my wrinkles! And my child's heart! You will be
the most dangerous of all Caesar's conguests.

CLEOPATRA (appalled). Caesar! I forgot Caesar. (Anxiously) You will tell
him that I am a Queen, will you not? a real Queen. Listen! (stealthily
coaxing him) let us run away and hide until Caesar is gone.

CAESAR. If you fear Caesar, you are no true Queen; and though you were
to hide beneath a pyramid, he would go straight to it and lift it with
one hand. And then--! (He chops his teeth together.)

CLEOPATRA (trembling). Oh!

CAESAR. Be afraid if you dare. (The note of the bucina resounds again in
the distance. She moans with fear. Caesar exalts in it, exclaiming) Aha!
Caesar approaches the throne of Cleopatra. Come: take your place. (He
takes her hand and leads her to the throne. She is too downcast to
speak.) Ho, there, Teetatota. How do you call your slaves?

CLEOPATRA (spiritlessly, as she sinks on the throne and cowers there,
shaking). Clap your hands.

He claps his hands. Ftatateeta returns.

CAESAR. Bring the Queen's robes, and her crown, and her women; and
prepare her.

CLEOPATRA (eagerly--recovering herself a little). Yes, the Crown,
Ftatateeta: I shall wear the crown.

FTATATEETA. For whom must the Queen put on her state?

CAESAR. For a citizen of Rome. A king of kings, Totateeta.

CLEOPATRA (stamping at her). How dare you ask questions? Go and do as
you are told. (Ftatateeta goes out with a grim smile. Cleopatra goes on
eagerly, to Caesar) Caesar will know that I am a Queen when he sees my
crown and robes, will he not?

CAESAR. No. How shall he know that you are not a slave dressed up in the
Queen's ornaments?

CLEOPATRA. You must tell him.

CAESAR. He will not ask me. He will know Cleopatra by her pride, her
courage, her majesty, and her beauty. (She looks very doubtful.) Are you
trembling?

CLEOPATRA (shivering with dread). No, I--I--(in a very sickly voice) No.

Ftatateeta and three women come in with the regalia.

FTATATEETA. Of all the Queen's women, these three alone are left. The
rest are fled. (They begin to deck Cleopatra, who submits, pale and
motionless.)

CAESAR. Good, good. Three are enough. Poor Caesar generally has to dress
himself.

FTATATEETA (contemptuously). The Queen of Egypt is not a Roman
barbarian. (To Cleopatra) Be brave, my nursling. Hold up your head
before this stranger.

CAESAR (admiring Cleopatra, and placing the crown on her head). Is it
sweet or bitter to be a Queen, Cleopatra?

CLEOPATRA. Bitter.

CAESAR. Cast out fear; and you will conquer Caesar. Tota: are the Romans
at hand?

FTATATEETA. They are at hand; and the guard has fled.

THE WOMEN (wailing subduedly). Woe to us!

The Nubian comes running down the hall.

NUBIAN. The Romans are in the courtyard. (He bolts through the door.
With a shriek, the women fly after him. Ftatateeta's jaw expresses
savage resolution: she does not budge. Cleopatra can hardly restrain
herself from following them. Caesar grips her wrist, and looks
steadfastly at her. She stands like a martyr.)

CAESAR. The Queen must face Caesar alone. Answer "So be it."

CLEOPATRA (white). So be it.

CAESAR (releasing her). Good.

A tramp and tumult of armed men is heard. Cleopatra's terror increases.
The bucina sounds close at hand, followed by a formidable clangor of
trumpets. This is too much for Cleopatra: she utters a cry and darts
towards the door. Ftatateeta stops her ruthlessly.

FTATATEETA. You are my nursling. You have said "So be it"; and if you
die for it, you must make the Queen's word good. (She hands Cleopatra to
Caesar, who takes her back, almost beside herself with apprehension, to
the throne.)

CAESAR. Now, if you quail--! (He seats himself on the throne.)

She stands on the step, all but unconscious, waiting for death. The
Roman soldiers troop in tumultuously through the corridor, headed by
their ensign with his eagle, and their bucinator, a burly fellow with
his instrument coiled round his body, its brazen bell shaped like the
head of a howling wolf. When they reach the transept, they stare in
amazement at the throne; dress into ordered rank opposite it; draw their
swords and lift them in the air with a shout of HAIL CAESAR. Cleopatra
turns and stares wildly at Caesar; grasps the situation; and, with a
great sob of relief, falls into his arms.




ACT II

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.