POTHINUS. Achillas: if you are not a fool, you will take that
girl whilst she is under your hand.

RUFIO (daring them). Why not take Caesar as well, Achillas?

POTHINUS (retorting the defiance with interest). Well said,
Rufio. Why not?

RUFIO. Try, Achillas. (Calling) Guard there.

The loggia immediately fills with Caesar's soldiers, who stand,
sword in hand, at the top of the steps, waiting the word to
charge from their centurion, who carries a cudgel. For a moment
the Egyptians face them proudly: then they retire sullenly to
their former places.

BRITANNUS. You are Caesar's prisoners, all of you.

CAESAR (benevolently). Oh no, no, no. By no means. Caesar's
guests, gentlemen.

CLEOPATRA. Won't you cut their heads off?

CAESAR. What! Cut off your brother's head?

CLEOPATRA. Why not? He would cut off mine, if he got the chance.
Wouldn't you, Ptolemy?

PTOLEMY (pale and obstinate). I would. I will, too, when I grow
up.