Act V, Scene 1, Lines 92–111, from The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus

By Christopher Marlowe

Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships,

And burnt the topless towers of Illium?

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 sacked,

And I will combat with weak Menelaus,

And wear thy colours on my pluméd crest.

Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,

And then return to Helen for a kiss.

O, thou art fairer than the evening’s air,

Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter,

When he appeared to hapless Semele:

More lovely than the monarch of the sky,

In wanton Arethusa’s azured arms,

And none but thou shalt be my paramour.