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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 Loved I not Honour more. Richard Lovelace, 1618-1658 |
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