The set is rather bleak, showing a conference room. On the upstage wall is a portrait of Sulla and Marius arguing head-to-head. The Roman standard can be seen here and there. Crassus is sitting at a large table. He is whistling tunelessly and eerily as the curtain goes up, paring his nails. Enter Pompey sl. He punches Crassus in the face, much to the shock of Crassus.

Crassus: What was that for?

Pompey: (shrugging) For being Crassus, I guess. (He sits down and starts shuffling papers.)

Crassus: Those are MY papers, Gnaius.

Pompey starts to read them, amused.

Pompey: Crassus, you little firebug. What have we here? Hovering around housefires to con panicked owners into giving you their property? Tsk, tsk.

Crassus: It's just real estate, Gnaius dear. Where there's fire, there's one of my salesmen with a complicated contract offering to buy. I find it's helpful to block the doorway with paperwork as most plebians see the light when faced with a rising inferno. Citizens in such situations are willing to sell their burning homes for a low low price. Charming, really.

Pompey: Bastard! (ripping up the paper)

Crassus: Aii! That's a year's worth of financing records!

Pompey: Wrought from the bleeding lips of the poor and gullible!

Crassus: You killed the records! The forms! The contracts!

Pompey: A blow for the plebians!

Crassus: You don't care about the plebians at all. Everything you say is superficial.

Pompey: Using big words to confuse me now, are you?

A brawl ensues. Enter Caesar. He carries a rumpled piece of paper that he squints and reads his lines off of from time to time, but not often enough to draw suspicion. He calmly sits down.

Caesar: Good morning, gentlemen. Is there a problem I should be aware of?

Pompey: No, Caesar.

Crassus: (Looking glumly at his paperwork) ...no, Caesar...

Caesar: Magnus, did I just see you trying to beat an old man?

Crassus: Well! I hardly consider myself to be--

Pompey: No, Caesar.

Caesar: Because that would be undignified and impolite. And good rulers are not rude and impolite.

Crassus: That's right! "Magnus" my eye. The Great in weight, perhaps.

Pompey: Are you calling me fat?

Crassus: Well, no offence dear, but you could stand to lose a few.

Caesar: Gentleman! I haven't called you here to bicker.

Pompey: I'm not fat, am I?

Crassus: Why did you call us, then?

Pompey: Mater always said I was a growing boy.

Caesar: I called you because Rome is entering a new and glorious era. I called you because your wise and sagacious council is vital to the rebirth of our nation. Because the sun is rising on the people of Romulus, and it stains the sky red with the blood of the battles to come. I have called you to build a scintillating new age of glory and honour. I did NOT call you here to listen to Pompey voicing thoughts on his winebelly while Crassus gives him fashion advice.

Pompey: It's not a winebelly. It's "party fat."

Caesar prepares to let rip with something REALLY angry. Crassus hastily intervenes.

Crassus: Julie dear, don't shout.

Caesar: Don't call me that! What have I always told you?

Pompey: "If the Gauls get to run around naked in blue makeup, why can't I"?

Caesar: N-n-When did I say that?

Pompey: Yesterday at the Feast of Bacchus. You remember, don't you, Crassus?

Crassus: My, oh my. You were a sight for sore eyes.

Caesar: (Trying to rally his dignity) Well what I always say is: "For always, I am Caesar."

Pompey: That's what you always say?

Caesar: That's what I always say.

Crassus: Well, I'm glad that's settled then.

Caesar: Where was I?

Pompey: Wasn't Rome entering a glorious new era?

Caesar: With the aid of us---the First Triumvirate!

Pompey: I like the sound of "the First Triumvirate."

Crassus: It's better than our last name.

Pompey: What, "The miser, the fat man, and the brilliantly calculating mastermind?"

Caesar: Gentlemen, let the past be the past! As I was saying, the time for the First Triumvirate has come. The Republic is dying. I think we can all agree on that. We need to strike now, while we still hold power.

Crassus: Strike? That's a loaded word.

Caesar: What I mean is that Rome requires the stability we can offer. Speaking plainly, the people both want and need our control.

Crassus: Well, I can't speak for "Magnus" here, but I've maxed out my consul terms.

Caesar: That's not a problem. It never has been. Look at Marius! We elected him seven times in a row.

Pompey: Only because he would slit our throats in a drunken rage if we didn't. Besides, he was... Marius.

Caesar: Gentlemen, you are mistaken to think that we can't be compared to him. We are all three of us great. I can promise you that the time will come when the name of Caesar will be heard more than that of Marius.

Pompey: The name of Caesar.

Caesar: (Realising his mistake) And Magnus Pompeius--and Crassus too of course.

Crassus: I think you'll find, Julie dear, that we're not all such lovers of Marius as you. In fact, if you care to notice, you're the only one who didn't serve Sulla. You're rara avis in terrum, I'm afraid.

Caesar: Sit down, Crassus. Do I have to remind you all how much this Triumvirate means? Pompey the Great. The people gave you that title, didn't they? Don't get too full of yourself, because they can take it away just as easily. You need popularity, and you know it. Crassus, catch...

He tosses a coin. Crassus leaps for it in an impressive rugby-style move.

Crassus: Don't waste that penny!

Caesar: And I think I've just illustrated Crassus' weak point. So if we may carry on...? Where was I?

Pompey: The Bacchic feast?

Caesar: No, no! The glorious future.

Enter Cicero. He too carries a piece of paper.

Cicero: Ah, the miser, the fat man and the brilliantly calculating mastermind. I thought I'd find you in this dump.

Pompey: (Sullenly)We changed our name. We've decided we're going to be the Triumvirate.

Cicero: Oh, alright. So this is your clubhouse, is it?

Caesar: It's my home!

Cicero: Such cattle as thou have no understanding of metaphor's art.

Crassus: Look, Cicero, why are you here?

Cicero: I'm sorry. Have I interrupted some sort of secret meeting? Well, I've come to tell you that I've had enough of you three screwing up the senate. No honest man can do anything without your approval. Behold, O ye gathered, for those evil days of kings and darkness have returned. Roma delenda est! Senators, no true Roman can stand for it--you won't have Cicero to kick around anymore!

The Triumvirate does a celebratory jig, concluded by them striking salutes and shouting a triumphant "Uale!"

Cicero: Fine then. I'll stay in politics just to spite you.

Caesar: That's rather spiteful.

Pompey: I've always said there was something spiteful about the way you treated us with spite.

Cicero: How did you people get elected? Your speaking may be compared to the oratory of the lowly mule, which upon an empty stomach declares "Gwee!" That's brilliant. Give me a minute to write it down.

Crassus: Look, Cicero, what's your game? Is it that you want to join the Triumvirate? Because we're willing to let you in.

Cicero: What, poor worthless Cicero, allowed in? Aw, shucks.

Caesar: Okay then. Goodbye.

Cicero: What?!

Pompey: Nobody's forcing you. We respect your autonomy. Ave, Cic.

Cicero: Bastards! (Exits.)

Crassus: We showed him! Haha! So much for Cicero the... the senator.

Pompey: Come on. He's not that bad, and he's certainly no threat.

Crassus: Oh, pardon me. We forgot that we were in the presence of Pompey the Great. Cicero's done you a few favours, hasn't he? You and Cicero are best buddies, aren't you?

Pompey: Don't be stupid, Crassus. He only spoke for me once.

Caesar: Yet here you are defending him.

Crassus: Pompey and Cicero sitting in a tree, A-M-A-N-T! Why don't you go to Cicero's house, you Cicero-lover.

Pompey: Fine then, I will! (He exits.)

Caesar: You really made him angry.

Crassus: I was only teasing.

Caesar: Well, what do I always say?

Crassus: "Don't go into the hatting business, you'll go mad"?

Caesar: No.

Crassus: "The King of Numida's hot bod--"

Caesar: NO. What I always say is, the line between teasing and abuse is in the eye of the victim.

Crassus: I'm sorry.

Caesar: Tell that to Pompey. We need him, Crassus. Without his popularity, the Triumvirate can't continue.

Crassus: I said I'm sorry! What can I do?

Caesar: I don't know. Hold the garrison. I'll go talk to him.

He exits, following Pompey. Crassus starts to hum the "Sittin' in the tree" song, then sighs.

Crassus: What is it with people and Cicero nowadays? Everyone seems to be quite taken with him. In my day, kids didn't go around reading this shallow Cicero nonsense. They read good books like Aristotle's Ethics and Plato's Republic and if they were feeling really wild, Cato the Elder's Guide to Agriculture. O tempora! O mores!

Enter Cato the Younger, rumpled piece of paper in hand.

Cato: Cicero said that, didn't he?

Crassus: He's everywhere! (sobs)

Cato: I don't understand how a man like that dares call himself an optimate.

Crassus: Bugger off, Cato.

Cato: Well, I'm offended, Crassus.

Crassus: Good.

Cato: And you wonder why you're not as popular as Caesar or Pompey.

Crassus: Look, I just don't want to talk to a guy who spends his whole life trying to imitate Cato the Elder.

Cato: What is it that bothers you about that?

Crassus: (reclining)It's just so phoney. Especially the way you dress like him.

Cato: And phoniness disturbs you.

Crassus: No. The way your toga flies up in a strong breeze is what disturbs me. You could at least have the decency to wear boxers, Cato.

Cato: I try to be authentic.

Crassus: How authentic can you get when you're trying to be someone else?

Cato: Go on. Tell me about this.

Crassus: It just bothers me to see people trying so hard to be something they can't.

Cato: Ah. So it's the unrealistic goal that frightens you. What are some of your unrealistic goals, Crassus?

Crassus: Having all the money in the world.

Cato: Why do you want that?

Crassus: Well... first of all, it's nice just to look at and hold in your hand. I like the weight of a few sestertii, the way they sparkle.

Cato: And...?

Crassus: Well, I suppose I could buy whatever I wanted. I could buy everything in the world.

Cato: Tell me why you want everything in the world, Crassus.

Crassus: Ownership. Business instinct, I suppose. And I guess it would be nice to watch the whole world grow and to think... that's mine.

Cato: You want the world because you could teach it to grow up?

Crassus: Yeah... I could nurture it. That would be nice.

Cato: Like a son, perhaps?

Crassus: Exactly like--what is this?! (He sits bolt upright.)

Cato: Aw, go on. The empty nest syndrome is so cute on you.

Crassus: Empty nest? CUTE?

Cato: Don't be so defensive!

Crassus: Maybe it's just in my nature to be defensive when a nearly naked senator barges in and calls me cute!

Cato: You act like I'm not even wearing a toga.

Crassus: Just go away, alright? I really feel like counting out my money right now.

Cato: Does the money comfort you?

Crassus: It's not going to work.

Enter Caesar and Pompey. Now Pompey is carrying a rumpled piece of paper, too, but upon viewing the strange scene drops it in shock. Caesar looks daggers at him.

Pompey: What's going on here?

Crassus: Don't look at me! I didn't invite him!

Pompey: Well call it my defensive nature but when a nearly naked senator--

Cato: I'm WEARING a TOGA!

But in demonstrating what he's wearing by holding it up, he takes it off. Everyone grimaces and looks away except for Caesar, who gives Cato a thumbs-up sign.

Caesar: Lookin' good, Cato.

Cato: Argh!

Pompey: Cato, your future as an optimate is GONE once Cicero hears about this one.

Cato: Cicero's the biggest blabbermouth in the republic! Once he hears about something, it's philippics, philippics, philippics until the whole Senate knows.

Caesar: Magnus is just teasing, aren't you, Magnus. We wouldn't tell Cicero unless something really, really bad happened. So! Why are you here?

Cato starts putting his toga back on.

Cato: Well, I was on my way to Cicero's house when--

Crassus: No! He's everywhere! I hate Cicero!

Caesar: That's alright. Roman history is full of examples of two people who hate each other and normally end up by one killing another. Romulus and Remus, Sulla and Marius, you and Cicero... it's hard to find a Roman who doesn't have a fatal enemy.

Pompey picks up the sheet of paper and crumples it delibrately, disgustedly.

Pompey: Who's your fatal enemy, Caesar?

Cato: The point is, I was walking along when I heard... some news.

Pompey: Rome's burning again.

Cato: That happens everyday.

Caesar: Brutus is filing that damn paternity suit.

Cato: Even worse than that.

Crassus: We're bankrupt!

Cato: No... Caesar, I regret to inform you that... I'm sorry...

Pompey: Oh no. I forgot all about her! It's too late for me to go, isn't it? The baby's been born already? She'll KILL me. And you know Julia. With a painfully blunt instrument.

Cato: No. She died...

Triumverate: What?

Cato: ...in childbirth. I'm sorry for your losses... your daughter, Caesar; your wife, Pompey.

Caesar: It was your fault, fatty.

Pompey: What? How could it be my fault? H-hey�!

A brawl erupts between them. Crassus tries to break it up.

Crassus: Haha. Who would have thought a little political marriage could cause so much mayhem. Don't look at me like that.

Cato: Video lupum... I'd better say ave. (exit)

Crassus: Please, let's not all lose our heads! Look, if only for political purposes, we have to stay together. Once the Triumvirate breaks up, we'll lose our grip on the senate. We need that. You were the one who told us we needed it, Julie.

Pompey: Shut up, Crassus. We all know you're the useless one. And you can take your stupid plan and cram it, Julie. That's sick. That's really sick.

Exeunt seperately Pompey and Caesar.

Crassus: Useless? How can I be useless? They all owe me money anyway. They need me to fund their horribly expensive projects. I can't be useless. I'll show them who's useless. (opens a book on the table) "The Use of a Military" by none other than the brilliantly calculating mastermind himself. Hrm... "First off, nobody argues with 4,000 angry men armed with long pointy javelins."

Exit Crassus. Enter Caesar. Caesar walks cs and slowly comes ds as the lights dim on everything but him. With deliberate movement he holds the rumpled piece of paper up, showing it to be labelled "Script: Seizing Power" with lines for Cicero, Cato and himself and slowly crumples it with a confidant sneer.

Caesar: Everything's fine.

Curtain.