We are little brethren twain, 
Arbiters of loss and gain, 
Many to our counters run, 
Some are made, and some undone: 
But men find it to their cost, 
Few are made, but numbers lost. 
Though we play them tricks for ever, 
Yet they always hope our favour.
Jonathan Swift
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-pair-of-dice/