Page:Shakespeare's Songs.djvu/33

Rh From Twelfth Night.

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 no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty,

Youth's a stuff will not endure.