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 star to every wandering 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
Look at me, Mr. T. Sweeney. Benjamin. Please look at me. Look me in the eyes for once. See that I love you. See that I will always love you. See that I have always loved you whatever your name. For in Benjamin, I saw Sweeney's darkness and loved it. And in Sweeney, I see Benjamin's light and love it. Your body may have changed, from young and carefree to one burdened with hate, but I still recognised it. Your name may have changed, from innocent Ben to guilty Sweeney, but it still gives me a thrill. Your eyes may have changed, from wide, open orbs to closed windows, but I still drown in them.
You are so determined that Benjamin is dead and yet you refuse to move on. You refuse to look at me. Frightened of what you see, Mr. T. Frightened of a love that burns so ardently and furiously and eternally.
Have you realised it yet, Sweeney? Benjamin's dear sweet, innocent Lucy could never love you now. But I can.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. Shakespeare. I read that at your wedding. Do you remember? Pretending to cry for your happiness, but truly weeping because I now loved a wedded man.
Whatever you do, I will love you. No amount of murders, raving and ignoring can halt my love. Could you say the same for Lucy's?