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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519489" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>This Lady's Cruelty</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519489" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">WITH how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies! <br>How silently, and with how wan a face! <br>What! may it be that even in heavenly place <br>That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? <br>Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes <br>Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case: <br>I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace <br>To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. <br>Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, <br>Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit? <br>Are beauties there as proud as here they be? <br>Do they above love to be loved, and yet <br>   Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? <br>   Do they call 'virtue' there--ungratefulness?</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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