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Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand\'ring bark,
Whose worth\'s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love\'s not Time\'s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle\'s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov\'d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov\'d.
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