Antony and Cleopatra had each a magnificent palace in Alexandria, and they feted each other by turns. Philotas, a young physician who was at that time pursuing his studies at Alexandria, related to Plutarch’s grandfather some incidents of these extravagant feasts. At one time Philotas entered Antony’s kitchen when eight wild boars were being roasted whole. Upon expressing astonishment at the large number of guests who must be expected, to require such a dinner, the cook informed him that there would be none others but Antony’s usual party of twelve; but as each dish must be served in perfection, and as Antony and Cleopatra often became engaged in some new diversion just as dinner was ready, and would thereupon give orders to have it wait their pleasure, it was necessary to cook eight entire dinners, that whichever one should suit their time to eat, it might be served without the slightest signs of neglect in its preparation. But the most costly of the luxuries then used in Egypt were the scents and ointments. Many of these perfumes, such as the attar of roses, were sold for four hundred denarii the pound. Cleopatra endeavored by every art possible to so fascinate Antony that he would not think of returning to Rome. Perceiving that Antony was partial to gross and sensuous pleasures, and more given to feasting than the polite arts and sciences, in which Cleopatra herself was remarkably accomplished, she therefore cultivated only the coarser side of her nature, and gave herself up to the most riotous amusements. She played at dice with him, hunted by his side, was present at all his military parades, and even joined him in his night revels in the street, when Antony, disguising himself as a servant, and Cleopatra dressed as a maid, accompanied by half-drunken companions, they went through the streets of Alexandria, attended with boisterous musicians and singers, and perpetrated all kinds of wild pranks. Thus the elegant Cleopatra, who could charm Julius Cæsar with the marvellous intelligence and keen wit of her conversation and the graceful allurements of her refined beauty, when with the mad Antony, who was more of a wild boar than statesman, laid aside her bewitching loveliness of mind and manner, and condescended to join in a wild revelry, as boisterous and undignified as his coarser nature could enjoy. Yet even the witchery of her youth, beauty, wealth, and gracefulness could not cloak the enormities of vice and crime. Her first request of Antony was the death of her sister Arsinoë, who had been living in exile in Asia since the time when she had been taken to Rome as a prisoner by Julius Cæsar. Either from jealousy or ambition, Cleopatra desired her to be put out of her way, and Antony caused her to be killed in the temple of Diana, at Miletus, whither Arsinoë had fled for refuge. Thus did Cleopatra continue her bloody work even in the midst of her most gorgeous revels.