Oh, could you view the melody Of every grace And music of her face, You'd drop a tear; Seeing more harmony In her bright eye Than now you hear. - Richard Lovelace

TELL me not Sweet I am unkind,
That from the Nunnery
Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind,
To War and Armes I fly.
True; a new Mistresse now I chase
The first Foe in the Field
And with a stronger Faith imbrace
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 honor more.

Poor verdant fool, and now green ice! thy joys,
Large and as lasting as thy perch of grass,
Bid us lay in ‘gainst winter rain, and poise
Their floods with an o’erflowing glass.

Stone walls doe not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Mindes innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedome in my love,
And in my soule am free,
Angels alone that sore above
Enjoy such liberty.