I have heard the last few lines quoted so frequently over the years that they now sound a bit cliched to my ear.
343. To Lucasta, going to the Wars
By Richard Lovelace (1618–1658)
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 thou too shalt adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.
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