Shakespeare’s Sonnet #116 “Let me not to the marriage of true minds”

Reading of Sonnet 116

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The images in the YouTube video are from an original 1609 edition of Shake-speares Sonnets held by the British Library.  It is one of only thirteen copies in existence.  Images courtesy of the Octavo Corporation.  

Modernized Spelling and Punctuation

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-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
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.

Simplified Modern English Translation

May I never to the marriage of true minds
present impediments.  That so-called love is not true love
which alters whenever a roadblock comes up
or changes course when someone else wishes it.
Oh no, it is a permanent beacon 
that overlooks tempests and is never shaken.
It is the constant North Star used  as a guide by all lost ships,
whose value is immeasurable, although is often taken for granted.
Love is not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
are inevitably effected by the ravages of time,
love alters not with time’s brief hours and weeks,
but bears it out even to the end of life.
If this is error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Text from Original 1609 Quarto

Transcription courtesy of University of Virginia Library:

Let me not to the marriage of true mindes
Admit impediments, loue is not loue
Which alters when it alteration findes,
Or bends with the remouer to remoue.
O no, it is an euer fixed marke
That lookes on tempests and is neuer shaken;
It is the star to euery wandring barke,
*Whose worths vnknowne, although his hight be taken.
Lou’s not Times foole, though rosie lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickles compasse come,
Loue alters not with his breefe houres and weekes,
But beares it out euen to the edge of doome:
If this be error and vpon me proued,
I neuer writ, nor no man euer loued.