I Eat Poetry

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, and shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such,
    As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
    Loved I not honour more.