CENTURION (_turning to Cleopatra_). Cleopatra: I am loth to offend you; but without Caesar's express order we dare not let you pass beyond the Roman lines. APOLLODORUS. Well, Centurion; and has not the lighthouse been within the Roman lines since Caesar landed there? CLEOPATRA. Yes, yes. Answer that, if you can. CENTURION (_to Apollodorus_). As for you, Apollodorus, you may thank the gods that you are not nailed to the palace door with a pilum for your meddling. APOLLODORUS (_urbanely_). My military friend, I was not born to be slain by so ugly a weapon. When I fall, it will be (_holding up his sword_) by this white queen of arms, the only weapon fit for an artist. And now that you are convinced that we do not want to go beyond the lines, let me finish killing your sentinel and depart with the Queen. CENTURION (_as the sentinel makes an angry demonstration_). Peace there. Cleopatra. I must abide by my orders, and not by the subtleties of this Sicilian. You must withdraw into the palace and examine your carpets there. CLEOPATRA (_pouting_). I will not: I am the Queen. Caesar does not speak to me as you do. Have Caesar's centurions changed manners with his scullions? CENTURION (_sulkily_). I do my duty. That is enough for me. APOLLODORUS. Majesty: when a stupid man is doing something he is ashamed of, he always declares that it is his duty. CENTURION (_angry_). Apollodorus---- APOLLODORUS (_interrupting him with defiant elegance_). I will make amends for that insult with my sword at fitting time and place. Who says artist, says duelist. (_To Cleopatra_) Hear my counsel, star of the east. Until word comes to these soldiers from Caesar himself, you are a prisoner. Let me go to him with a message from you, and a present; and before the sun has stooped half way to the arms of the sea, I will bring you back Caesar's order of release. CENTURION (_sneering at him_). And you will sell the Queen the present, no doubt. APOLLODORUS. Centurion: the Queen shall have from me, without payment, as the unforced tribute of Sicilian taste to Egyptian beauty, the richest of these carpets for her present to Caesar. CLEOPATRA (_exultantly, to the Centurion_). Now you see what an ignorant common creature you are! CENTURION (_curtly_). Well, a fool and his wares are soon parted. (_He turns to his men_) Two more men to this post here; and see that no one leaves the palace but this man and his merchandize. If he draws his sword again inside the lines, kill him. To your posts. March. _He goes out, leaving two auxiliary sentinels with the other._ APOLLODORUS (_with polite goodfellowship_). My friends: will you not enter the palace and bury our quarrel in a bowl of wine? (_He takes out his purse, jingling the coins in it._) The Queen has presents for you all. SENTINEL (_very sulky_). You heard our orders. Get about your business. FIRST AUXILIARY. Yes: you ought to know better. Off with you.