Lowliness is young ambition's ladder, whereto the climber-upward turns his face; 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.

More from Julius Caesar

• And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side, come hot from hell, Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.
• Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Caesar!
• I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say “better”?
• Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
• All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told; Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold.
• All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their enterances, And one man in his time plays many parts.