XII.

Old enemies who have become new friends

Should so continue—'t is a point of honour;

And I know nothing which could make amends

For a return to Hatred: I would shun her

Like garlic, howsoever she extends

Her hundred arms and legs, and fain outrun her.

Old flames, new wives, become our bitterest foes—

Converted foes should scorn to join with those.

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