To Lucasta On Going To The Wars

LL me not,

Sweet,

I am unkind,    That from the

Of thy chaste breasts, 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,    Loved I not honour more.