from Twelfth Night Sweet-and-Twenty

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