O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear! your true-love's coming That can sing both high and low; Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Journeys end in lovers' meeting- Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty,- Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.