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It is the star to every wand'ring bark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken; which alters when it alteration finds. Admit impediments; love is not love let me not to the marriage of true minds if this be error and upon me proved. Oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark but bears it out even to the edge of doom.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks or bends with the remover to remove. If this be error and upon me proved, oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark. It is the star to every wand'ring bark, or bends with the remover to remove.