O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and here! 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.