Fate holds the strings, and men like children move
But as they're led: success is from above.
The kiss you take, is paid by that you give:
The joy is mutual, and I'm still in debt.
Thy thoughts to nobler meditations give,
And study how to die, not how to live.
Beauty by no complexion is defin'd,
Is of all colours, and to none confin'd.
Whoe'er thou art, thy Lord and master see,
Thou wast my Slave, thou art, or thou shalt be.
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