RICHARD LOVELACE.

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48. 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 you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more.
Carew Hazlitt's Text.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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