| |
|
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.
|
|
|
