You charm'd me not with that fair face
       Though it was all divine:
   To be another's is the grace,
       That makes me wish you mine.

     The Gods and Fortune take their part
       Who like young monarchs fight;
   And boldly dare invade that heart
       Which is another's right.

     First mad with hope we undertake
       To pull up every bar;
   But once possess'd, we faintly make
       A dull defensive war.

     Now every friend is turn'd a foe
       In hope to get our store:
   And passion makes us cowards grow,
       Which made us brave before.
- John Dryden

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