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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=338170" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet 151</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=338170" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Love is too young to know what conscience is,<br>Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?<br>Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,<br>Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove;<br>For, thou betraying me, I do betray<br>My nobler part to my gross body’s treason.<br>My soul doth tell my body that he may<br>Triumph in love—flesh stays no father reason,<br>But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee<br>As his triumphant prize—proud of this pride,<br>He is contented thy poor drudge to be,<br>To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.<br>  No want of conscience hold it that I call<br>  Her "love" for whose dear love I rise and fall.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Shakespeare">William Shakespeare</a></strong> from <em><a href="http://sources.citatepedia.com/from.php?a=William+Shakespeare&d=Sonnets">Sonnets</a></em></div>

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