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Richard Lovelace
1618-1657/8

TO LUCASTA, GOING TO THE WARS

1    Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind,
2         That from the nunnery
3     Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
4         To war and arms I fly.

5     True, a new mistress now I chase,
6         The first foe in the field;
7     And with a stronger faith embrace
8         A sword, a horse, a shield.

9     Yet this inconstancy is such
10       As you too shall adore;
11   I could not love thee (Dear) so much,
12       Lov'd I not Honour more.

The Scrutiny

Why should you swear I am forsworn,
Since thine I vowed to be?
Lady, it is already morn,
And 'twas last night I swore to thee
That fond impossibility.

Have I not loved thee much and long,
A tedious twelve hours' space?
I must all other beauties wrong,
And rob thee of a new embrace,
Could I still dote upon thy face.

Not but all joy in thy brown hair
By others may be found; -
But I must search the black and fair,
Like skilful mineralists that sound
For treasure in unploughed-up ground.

Then if, when I have loved my round,
Thou prov'st the pleasant she,
With spoils of meaner beauties crowned
I laden will return to thee,
Ev'n sated with variety.

© 2000 Elena and Yacov Feldman