To Lucasta, Going to the Warres
I.
Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde,
That from the nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde
To warre and armes I flie.
II.
True: a new Mistresse now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith imbrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
III.
Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Lov’d I not Honour more.
Other works by Richard Lovelace...
To my Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly : on that excellent Picture of his Majesty, and the Duke of Yorke, drawne by him at Hampton-Court
SEE! what a clouded Majesty! a… Whose glory through their mist dot… See! what an humble bravery doth… And griefe triumphant breaking thr… How it commands the face! so swee…
