Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.

In the words of William Shakespeare, the great bard of Stratford, we find a counsel both sharp and eternal: “Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.” At first glance, it appears as a warning against delegation, a stern admonition to those who would allow others to speak, bargain, or judge on their behalf. But beneath the surface, it speaks of something deeper — the sanctity of personal judgment, the sovereignty of one’s own discernment, and the peril that comes when we yield too readily the reins of our destiny into the hands of another.

This teaching flows like a river from the ancient springs of human wisdom. For in the marketplaces of old, whether in Athens, Rome, or the bustling fairs of Elizabethan England, the one who trusted blindly in another’s word often found himself betrayed or diminished. To “trust no agent” is not a call to loneliness, but a call to vigilance. It is a reminder that every soul carries its own eye, its own measure of truth, and that this sacred inner witness must never be clouded by the voices of flatterers, schemers, or false friends.

Consider the tale of the Trojan prince Paris, who allowed his eye to be seduced by promises, his judgment swayed by the gifts of goddesses. He trusted in the sweetness of another’s persuasion rather than the stern clarity of wisdom. That single choice, that failure to negotiate for himself with truth as his guide, became the spark that lit the fires of Troy’s ruin. Here is the lesson: when we surrender our judgment to another, we gamble not only with our fortune but with the very fabric of our lives and the lives of those bound to us.

And yet, let us not mistake Shakespeare’s counsel as a cry for mistrust of all mankind. To “trust no agent” is not to shun fellowship, but to resist the danger of blind reliance. The merchant who sends another to purchase on his behalf without oversight may receive false wares. The king who listens only to flatterers may doom his realm. But the one who keeps his own eye sharp, who listens with openness yet weighs with firmness, walks the path of wisdom. Trust, then, must be tempered with discernment, and reliance balanced with vigilance.

History offers us also the example of Abraham Lincoln, who during the American Civil War was constantly pressed by advisors and generals with conflicting strategies. Many urged him to place full trust in their judgment. Yet Lincoln, though not a soldier by training, read deeply, studied maps, and weighed every counsel with his own eye. He listened, yes — but he never surrendered his judgment entirely. It was this steadfastness, this refusal to be ruled by agents, that preserved the Union.

Therefore, children of time, hear this: your eye is your compass, your flame, your protector. To abandon it is to drift in a storm without a star. There will always be those who claim to know better, who cloak themselves in eloquence or authority, urging you to place your fate in their hands. But wisdom calls you to weigh their counsel, to test it against your own discernment, and to stand firm in the face of doubt.

The lesson is clear: take nothing on blind faith. Examine, question, and discern with your own eye. Seek counsel, yes, but let no agent carry the full weight of your decision. In the affairs of the heart, do not let another choose your love. In the matters of wealth, do not let another gamble your fortune unexamined. And in the questions of truth, do not let another define your belief without the fire of your own judgment testing it.

Thus, the practical path before you is this: when decisions arise, slow your step, listen to the voices around you, but then look within. Ask: Does this accord with my truth? Have my own eyes weighed it? Practice this daily — in the small dealings at the market, in the agreements of friendship, in the choices of career or devotion. In so doing, you will walk not as one who is led, but as one who leads himself with clarity, strength, and honor. And your life, like a fortress, shall stand firm against betrayal and folly.