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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374451" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet V</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374451" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">RVdely thou wrongest my deare harts desire,<br>In finding fault with her too portly pride:<br>the thing which I doo most in her admire,<br>is of the world vnworthy most enuide.<br>For in those lofty lookes is close implide,<br>scorn of base things, & sdeigne of soule dishonor:<br>thretning rash eies which gaze on her so wide,<br>that loosely they ne dare to looke vpon her.<br>Such pride is praise, such portlinesse is honor,<br>that boldned innocence beares in her eies:<br>and her faire countenance like a goodly banner,<br>spreds in defiaunce of all enemies.<br>Was neuer in this world ought worthy tride,<br>without some spark of such self-pleasing pride.</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=Edmund+Spenser">Edmund Spenser</a></strong></div>