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O Mistress Mine
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 not plenty; Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth´s a stuff will not endure. by William Shakespeare