Blood will have blood.
But men are men; the best sometimes forget.
O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!
Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
For to be wise and love exceeds man's might.