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O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

     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 no plenty;


     Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
          Youth's a stuff will not endure.
                                          (Twelfth Wight, I I, 3)
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