For shows of unsubstantial good,
Whether his kings, and queens, and knights,
Be things of flesh, or things of wood?
“We check and take, exult, and fret;
Our plans extend, our passions rise,
Till in our ardour we forget
How worthless is the victor’s prize.
Soon fades the spell, soon comes the night:
Say will it not be then the same,
Whether we play the black or white,