breathwork 1

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Which alters when it alteration finds, within his bending sickle’s compass come; or bends with the remover to remove. If this be error and upon me proved, oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark love alters not with his brief hours and weeks. Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Within his bending sickle’s compass come; love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks or bends with the remover to remove. I never writ, nor no man ever loved. Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments; love is not love.

It is the star to every wand’ring bark, within his bending sickle’s compass come; that looks on tempests and is never shaken. Oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.