---

Christopher Marlowe - The Face That Launch`d A Thousand Ships
Work rating: Medium

Was this the face that launch`d a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies!
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sack`d;
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest;
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appear`d to hapless Semele;
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa`s azur`d arms;
And none but thou shalt be my paramour!
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.