CAESAR                      [to Pompey] Since I saw you last

There is a change upon you.

POMPEY                     Well, I know not

What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face,

But in my bosom shall she never come

To make my heart her vassal.

LEPIDUS                     Well met here.

POMPEY         I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed.

I crave our composition may be written

And sealed between us.

CAESAR                      That’s the next to do.                        (2.6.52-9)

Caesar and Lepidus (the latter less assertively) won’t allow Antony to monopolise Pompey; they need to remind him that they’re present too and that they matter. Since I saw you last there is a change upon you, says Caesar, slightly lamely; you’re looking a bit different since the last time we met (with the implication, probably, you’re looking a bit rough, hard times?) Pompey is smooth and turns it to his advantage: well, I know not what counts harsh fortune casts upon my face—yes, you can probably see that I have been through a lot, my face tells the story, keeps the score and tallies it in lines, or scars. But in my bosom shall she, harsh fortune, never come to make my heart her vassal. That’s all superficial; I am not, ultimately, subject to ill fortune, I remain my own man, and in control of my own destiny. Master of my fate etc, nothing venture nothing win. Caesar silenced, at least temporarily, so Lepidus has a go, just with some courteous nothings: well met here, well, isn’t this lovely, all of us together, really auspicious. I hope so, Lepidus, replies Pompey, smoothly. And he takes control of the meeting again: thus we are agreed, so, we’re all on the same page, let’s get on with it. Let’s get this memorandum of understanding, this peace treaty properly written up, signed and sealed: I crave our composition may be written and sealed between us. That’s the next to do, agrees Caesar, pretty redundantly, but at least his voice is being heard. Again.