![]() ![]() Oaths are only necessary for men you wouldn’t trust, who are engaged in causes that are bad. But if these reasons are powerful enough-and I’m sure they are-to spark cowards to act and to strengthen with courage the failing spirits of our women, then, countrymen, what else do we need other than our cause to spur us to make things right? What bond do we need other than being Romans who have given their word to act and not back down? And what oath do we need other than that we have all said to each other honestly that either we will make this happen or die trying? Swearing is for priests and cowards and cautious men for people who are old and feeble and for those weak people who like to be mistreated. Then we’ll just let the ambitious tyrant rule and kill each one of us when the whim takes him. If the unhappy faces of the men around us, the suffering of our own souls, and the corruption of our current time aren’t motivation enough, then we should break it off now and each one of us of us go back and rest in bed. But do not stain The even virtue of our enterprise, Nor th' insuppressive mettle of our spirits, To think that or our cause or our performance Did need an oath, when every drop of blood That every Roman bears-and nobly bears- Is guilty of a several bastardy If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that hath passed from him. Unto bad causes swear Such creatures as men doubt. But if these- As I am sure they do-bear fire enough To kindle cowards and to steel with valor The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, W hat need we any spur but our own cause To prick us to redress? What other bond Than secret Romans that have spoke the word And will not palter? And what other oath Than honesty to honesty engaged, That this shall be, or we will fall for it? Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous, Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls That welcome wrongs. 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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