Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde,
  That from the nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde,
  To warre and armes I flee.

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;...