TO LUCASTA, GOING TO THE WARS

——Richard Lovelace

　　Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,

　　That from the nunnery

　　Of thy chaste¹ breast and quiet mind

　　To war and arms I fly.

　　True, a new mistress now I chase,

　　The first foe² in the field;

　　And with a stronger faith embrace

　　A sword, a horse, a shield.

　　Yet this inconstancy is such

　　As thou too shalt adore;

　　I could not love thee, Dear, so much,

　　Loved I not Honour more.