To Lucasta, Going to the Warre
s|
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. |