To Lucasta, Going To The Wars
Richard Lovelace
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breasts, 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, Loved I not honour more.
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