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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 to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown;
Although his height be taken.
Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips cheeks
Within his bending sickles compas come;