To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars
Hubert Parry, Richard Lovelace
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 you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much
Lov'd I not honour more
