Would it be cavalier to suggest that boudoir-hopper of the seventeenth century, Richard Lovelace?

Tell me not sweet I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of they 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 thou too shalt adore;Loved I not honor more.

or another favorite, The Scrutiny

Why would 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 skillful mineralists that sound
For treasure in un-plowed-up ground.

Then, if when I have loved my round,
Thou proves the pleasant she;
With spoils of meaner Beauties crowned,
I laden will return to thee,
Even sated with variety.