To Lucasta On Going To The Wars

TELL 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 honour more.