[VII]. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.
Richard Lovelace.—1618-1658.
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 honor more.