Christopher Marlowe
The Face of Helen - Was this the Face that Launch'd a Thousand Ships?

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!