Richard Lovelace

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind,
        That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
        To war and arms I fly.
 
True, a new mistress now I chase,
        The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
        A sword, a horse, a shield.
 
Yet this inconstancy is such
        As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee (Dear) so much,
        Lov’d I not Honour more.
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