RUFIO (_with intense disgust_). Ugh! Bring _me_ my Falernian. (_The Falernian is presently brought to him._) CLEOPATRA (_pouting_). It is waste of time giving you dinners, Caesar. My scullions would not condescend to your diet. CAESAR (_relenting_). Well, well: let us try the Lesbian. (_The Major-Domo fills Caesar's goblet; then Cleopatra's and Apollodorus's._) But when I return to Rome, I will make laws against these extravagances. I will even get the laws carried out. CLEOPATRA (_coaxingly_). Never mind. To-day you are to be like other people: idle, luxurious, and kind. (_She stretches her hand to him along the table._) CAESAR. Well, for once I will sacrifice my comfort--(_kissing her hand_) there! (_He takes a draught of wine._) Now are you satisfied? CLEOPATRA. And you no longer believe that I long for your departure for Rome? CAESAR. I no longer believe anything. My brains are asleep. Besides, who knows whether I shall return to Rome? RUFIO (_alarmed_). How? Eh? What? CAESAR. What has Rome to shew me that I have not seen already? One year of Rome is like another, except that I grow older, whilst the crowd in the Appian Way is always the same age. APOLLODORUS. It is no better here in Egypt. The old men, when they are tired of life, say "We have seen everything except the source of the Nile." CAESAR (_his imagination catching fire_). And why not see that? Cleopatra: will you come with me and track the flood to its cradle in the heart of the regions of mystery? Shall we leave Rome behind us--Rome, that has achieved greatness only to learn how greatness destroys nations of men who are not great! Shall I make you a new kingdom, and build you a holy city there in the great unknown? CLEOPATRA (_rapturously_). Yes, yes. You shall. RUFIO. Ay: now he will conquer Africa with two legions before we come to the roast boar. APOLLODORUS. Come: no scoffing, this is a noble scheme: in it Caesar is no longer merely the conquering soldier, but the creative poet-artist. Let us name the holy city, and consecrate it with Lesbian Wine. CAESAR. Cleopatra shall name it herself. CLEOPATRA. It shall be called Caesar's Gift to his Beloved. APOLLODORUS. No, no. Something vaster than that--something universal, like the starry firmament. CAESAR (_prosaically_). Why not simply The Cradle of the Nile? CLEOPATRA. No: the Nile is my ancestor; and he is a god. Oh! I have thought of something. The Nile shall name it himself. Let us call upon him. (_To the Major-Domo_) Send for him. (_The three men stare at one another; but the Major-Domo goes out as if he had received the most matter-of-fact order._) And (_to the retinue_) away with you all. _The retinue withdraws, making obeisance._