The people on the stage are not related.

The words they speak are only poetry.

The sins here scorned, the actions here berated

Arise from fancy, not from memory.

Your mother suffered for this luck you harness.

You have your father's eyes and hair and wit.

But others brought you help, when you were helpless.

Which debt will you recall, and which forget?

The houses of the wizards all are shuttered.

They do not spend their art on families.

These spells of binding work with no word uttered,

No luck enfolded; thrive on miseries,

If misery is what you give them. Think:

This is a desert. Here is water. Drink.