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,
Loved I not honour more.
