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 id still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth;s a stuff will not endure.
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