TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS

by: Richard Lovelace (1618-1658)

ELL 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 thou, too, shalt adore;

I could not love thee, Dear, so much,

Loved I not Honor more.

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