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| Let me not to the marriage of true minds | 1 |
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| Admit impediments. Love is not love |
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| Which alters when it alteration finds, |
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| Or bends with the remover to remove: |
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| O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, | 5 |
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| That looks on tempests and is never shaken; |
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| It is the star to every wandering bark, |
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| Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. |
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| Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks |
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| Within his bending sickle's compass come; | 10 |
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| Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, |
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| But bears it out even to the edge of doom. |
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 If this be error and upon me prov'd, |
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| I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. |
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