Then Love, I beg, when next thou takest thy bow, Thy angry shafts, and dost heart-chasing go, Pass rascal deer, strike me the largest doe. - Richard Lovelace

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.

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.

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.