Synopsis

Let me not to the marriage of true minds within his bending sickle's compass come; whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; 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. Let me not to the marriage of true minds or bends with the remover to remove. Which alters when it alteration finds, that looks on tempests and is never shaken; but bears it out even to the edge of doom.

Within his bending sickle's compass come. That looks on tempests and is never shaken; or bends with the remover to remove. Let me not to the marriage of true minds oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark within his bending sickle's compass come.