Archive for the 'christopher marlowe' Category

Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships by Christopher Marlowe

I’m really quite surprised I haven’t posted this before. Stash used to print the quote in my icon on their orange starfruit chamomile teabags, and I think it’s lovely. Here it is in (slightly) larger context.

Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships
FROM THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF DOCTOR FAUSTUS, ACT V SCENE I
By Christopher Marlowe

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!

Current Tea: Thai iced tea (a new discovery at the Tea Embassy yesterday and I’m really excited about it!)

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe

I have no context for this except that I liked it and I’ve not posted anything by Marlowe before. Enjoy!

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
By Christopher Marlowe

Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy-buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my Love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.