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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519210" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519210" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">LADIES, though to your conquering eyes <br>Love owes his chiefest victories, <br>And borrows those bright arms from you <br>With which he does the world subdue, <br>Yet you yourselves are not above <br>The empire nor the griefs of love. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519210" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Then rack not lovers with disdain, <br>Lest Love on you revenge their pain: <br>You are not free because you're fair: <br>The Boy did not his Mother spare. <br>Beauty 's but an offensive dart: <br>It is no armour for the heart.</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=Sir+George+Etherege">Sir George Etherege</a></strong></div>

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