To Lucasta, Going to the Wars, by Richard Lovelace
Tell me now, sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To wars 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.
Yes this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more.