Richard Lovelace (1618-1657)
To Lucasta, Going to the Warres
Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkinde.
That from the Nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast, and quiet minde,
To Warre and Armes I flie.
True; a new Mistresse now I chase,
The first Foe in the Field;
And with a stronger Faith imbrace
A Sword, a Horse, a Shield.
Yet this Inconsistency is such,
As thou too shalt adore;
I could not love thee (Deare) so much,
Lov’d I not Honour more.
