![]() So let high-sighted tyranny range on Till each man drop by lottery. If not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time’s abuse- If these be motives weak, break off betimes, And every man hence to his idle bed. So we must kill him while he’s still in the shell. Therefore, we should think of him as a serpent’s egg-which, once it's hatched, grows dangerous, just as all serpents do. And since our argument has nothing to do with who he is right now, I must think of it this way: if he got more power, his character as it is now would be transformed into the extreme one I've described. Therefore, because he might, we must stop him. And then, when he gets to the top rung, he turns his back on those beneath him and shoots for the skies, while scorning what he did to get to the top. But it's a basic truth that an ambitious young man uses humility as a tool to move up the ladder. And, to be honest about Caesar, I’ve never seen his emotions get the better of his reason. The abuse of power comes when power gets separated from compassion. If we crown him king, then-I admit-we’d be giving him a power that he could use to do evil things, if he wanted. The question is, how might being king change him? Just as sunny days cause poisonous snakes to come outside, bad things can come from what looks good-and so we must step carefully. As for me, I have no personal reason to harm him other than the common good of the people. And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg- Which, hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous- And kill him in the shell. And since the quarrel Will bear no color for the thing he is, Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented, Would run to these and these extremities. But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend. But ’tis a common proof That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder, Whereto the climber upward turns his face. And, to speak truth of Caesar, I have not known when his affections swayed More than his reason. Th' abuse of greatness is when it disjoins Remorse from power. Crown him that, And then I grant we put a sting in him That at his will he may do danger with. ![]() It is the bright day that brings forth the adder And that craves wary walking. How that might change his nature, there’s the question. It must be by his death, and for my part I know no personal cause to spurn at him But for the general.
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