You shall hear the story.

At that time Alexandria was in a state of turmoil, for Rome had not recognized the King, and ruled over us like Fate, though it had not acknowledged the will by which the miserable Alexander bequeathed Egypt to him like a field or a slave.
"The King of Egypt, who called himself 'the new Dionysus,' was a weak man, whose birth did not give him the full right to the sovereignty.
You know that the people called him the 'fluteplayer.' He really had no greater pleasure than to hear music and listen to his own performances.
He played by no means badly on more than one instrument, and, moreover, as a reveller did honour to the other name.

Whoever kept sober at the festival of Dionysus, whose incarnate second self he regarded himself, incurred his deepest displeasure.
"The flute-player's wife, Queen Tryphoena, and her oldest daughter--she bore your name, Berenike--ruined his life.

Compared with them, the King was worthy and virtuous.

What had become of the heroes and the high-minded princes of the house of Ptolemy?
Every passion and crime had found a home in their palaces! "The flute-player, Cleopatra's father, was by no means the worst.