from Twelfth Night Sweet-and-Twenty
mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low:
no further, pretty sweeting;
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.