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.