  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. William Shakespeare. |
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