O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

O stay and heart your true-love’s coming

That can sing both high and low;

Trip no farther, pretty sweeting,

Journey’s 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.