Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind For, 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 unconstancy is such As you too shall adore; For, I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Richard Lovelace
