Youth

To me fair friend you never can be old
For as you were when first your eye I eyed
Such is your beauty still.
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Leonato, with a letter
I learn in this letter that Don
Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina.
Messenger
He is very near by this. He was not three
leagues off when I left him.

He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age,
doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion.
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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.
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Sir Andrew Aguecheek
Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling when
all is done. Now, a song!
Sir Toby Belch, giving money to the Fool
Come on, there is
sixpence for you. Let’s have a song.
Sir Andrew Aguecheek, giving money to the Fool
There’s a testril of
me, too. If one knight give a—
Fool
Would you have a love song or a song of good
life?
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Young men’s love then lies
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
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