For your intent in going back to school in Wittenburg it is most retrograde to our desire; and we beseech you, bend you to remain here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, our chiefest courtier, cousin and our son.

Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer?
Is that what’s happening here?
A fatal mistake, really –
Back at school, the student might forget the wrongs done him.
He might allow the sting of the loss of his position to diminish.
He might wrap himself up in philosophy
In language
In science
In words
In books
And trouble himself a lot less about the world back home
Where his country putrefies from the top down.
But place him next to you
Beside the throne that ought to have been his
Smelling the wine you drink and the scent
Of his mother on you –
Place him where the world can easily compare you
And hope to elevate him back to his rightful place.
Place him where he can ferret out your actions; You create your own end there, Claudius.
You calculate yourself into your grave.

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