RUFIO (_looking at the chain_). What! An old man and a boy work that! Twenty men, you mean. BRITANNUS. Two only, I assure you. They have counterweights, and a machine with boiling water in it which I do not understand: it is not of British design. They use it to haul up barrels of oil and faggots to burn in the brazier on the roof. RUFIO. But---- BRITANNUS. Excuse me: I came down because there are messengers coming along the mole to us from the island. I must see what their business is. (_He hurries out past the lighthouse._) CAESAR (_coming away from the parapet, shivering and out of sorts_). Rufio: this has been a mad expedition. We shall be beaten. I wish I knew how our men are getting on with that barricade across the great mole. RUFIO (_angrily_). Must I leave my food and go starving to bring you a report? CAESAR (_soothing him nervously_). No, Rufio, no. Eat, my son. Eat. (_He takes another turn, Rufio chewing dates meanwhile._) The Egyptians cannot be such fools as not to storm the barricade and swoop down on us here before it is finished. It is the first time I have ever run an avoidable risk. I should not have come to Egypt. RUFIO. An hour ago you were all for victory. CAESAR (_apologetically_). Yes: I was a fool--rash, Rufio--boyish. RUFIO. Boyish! Not a bit of it. Here. (_Offering him a handful of dates._) CAESAR. What are these for? RUFIO. To eat. That's what's the matter with you. When a man comes to your age, he runs down before his midday meal. Eat and drink; and then have another look at our chances. CAESAR (_taking the dates_). My age! (_He shakes his head and bites a date._) Yes, Rufio: I am an old man--worn out now--true, quite true. (_He gives way to melancholy contemplation, and eats another date._) Achillas is still in his prime: Ptolemy is a boy. (_He eats another date, and plucks up a little._) Well, every dog has his day; and I have had mine: I cannot complain. (_With sudden cheerfulness_) These dates are not bad, Rufio. (_Britannus returns, greatly excited, with a leathern bag. Caesar is himself again in a moment._) What now? BRITANNUS (_triumphantly_). Our brave Rhodian mariners have captured a treasure. There! (_He throws the bag down at Caesar's feet._) Our enemies are delivered into our hands. CAESAR. In that bag? BRITANNUS. Wait till you hear, Caesar. This bag contains all the letters which have passed between Pompey's party and the army of occupation here. CAESAR. Well? BRITANNUS (_impatient of Caesar's slowness to grasp the situation_). Well, we shall now know who your foes are. The name of every man who has plotted against you since you crossed the Rubicon may be in these papers, for all we know. CAESAR. Put them in the fire. BRITANNUS. Put them--(_he gasps_)!!!!