"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 not plenty ;
Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty :
Youth's a stuff will not endure."
Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare.
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