Adrift in a sea of strife, both without and within, I perchance to commune with the noble Bard on this thorny topic. What follows comes from his timeless inspiration, as well as some of my rank perspiration...

To juice or not to juice

That is the question

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to succor

A prick containing the alchemist's compound

Or stand vigilant in honour

Of the sporting ideal? To win: to lose;

And more; not just the match contested

The torment of dubious virtuousness

Aged lineament is tattered, 'tis a conundrum

Devoutly to be wish'd. To cry, to weep

Fealty steep: pursuit of dreams: aye, there's the rub

For in that death of honor what spirits may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil

All must answer the call; which flank ye post

Thus anoints thy brow as just or vile

So that the countless that succeed may discern.