To Lucasta, 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.