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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519406" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet 59: Dear, Why Make You More</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519406" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Dear, why make you more of a dog than me? <br>If he do love, I burn, I burn in love; <br>If he wait well, I never thence would move; <br>If he be fair, yet but a dog can be. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519406" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Little he is, so little worth is he; <br>He barks, my songs thine own voice oft doth prove:<br>Bidden perhaps he fetcheth thee a glove, <br>But I unbid, fetch ev'n my soul to thee. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519406" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Yet while I languish, him that bosom clips, <br>That lap doth lap, nay lets in spite of spite <br>This sour-breath'd mate taste of those sugar'd lips.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519406" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Alas, if you grant only such delight <br>To witless thngs, then Love I hope (since wit <br>Becomes a clog) will soon ease me of it.</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=Philip+Sidney">Philip Sidney</a></strong></div>

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