in the extremity of
misfortune. It draws near rapidly; and Theodotus rushes in, tearing his
hair, and squeaking the most lamentable exclamations. Rufio steps back
to stare at him, amazed at his frantic condition. Pothinus turns to
listen.

THEODOTUS (on the steps, with uplifted arms). Horror unspeakable! Woe,
alas! Help!

RUFIO. What now?

CAESAR (frowning). Who is slain?

THEODOTUS. Slain! Oh, worse than the death of ten thousand men! Loss
irreparable to mankind!

RUFIO. What has happened, man?

THEODOTUS (rushing down the hall between them). The fire has spread from
your ships. The first of the seven wonders of the world perishes. The
library of Alexandria is in flames.

RUFIO. Psha! (Quite relieved, he goes up to the loggia and watches the
preparations of the troops on the beach.)

CAESAR. Is that all?

THEODOTUS (unable to believe his senses). All! Caesar: will you go down
to posterity as a barbarous soldier too ignorant to know the value of
books?

CAESAR. Theodotus: I am an author myself; and I tell you it is better
that the Egyptians should live their lives than dream them away with the
help of books.

THEODOTUS (kneeling, with genuine literary emotion: the passion of the
pedant). Caesar: once in ten generations of men, the world gains an
immortal book.

CAESAR (inflexible). If it did not flatter mankind, the common
executioner would burn it.

THEODOTUS. Without history, death would lay you beside your meanest
soldier.

CAESAR. Death will do that in any case. I ask no better grave.

THEODOTUS. What is burning there is the memory of mankind.

CAESAR. A shameful memory. Let it burn.

THEODOTUS (wildly). Will you destroy the past?

CAESAR. Ay, and build the future with its ruins. (Theodotus, in despair,
strikes himself on the temples with his fists.) But harken, Theodotus,
teacher of kings: you who valued Pompey's head no more than a shepherd
values an onion, and who now kneel to me, with tears in your old eyes,
to plead for a few sheepskins scrawled with errors. I cannot spare you a
man or a bucket of water just now; but you shall pass freely out of the
palace. Now, away with you to Achillas; and borrow his legions to put
out the fire. (He hurries him to the steps.)

POTHINUS (significantly). You understand, Theodotus: I remain a
prisoner.

THEODOTUS. A prisoner!

CAESAR. Will you stay to talk whilst the memory of mankind is burning?
(Calling through the loggia) Ho there! Pass Theodot