To Lucasta, Going to the Warres

Richard Lovelace


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.


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