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.