From Doctor Faustus ("Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?")

Was this the face that launched a thousand shipsAnd burned 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 be in these lipsAnd 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 MenelausAnd wear thy colours on my plumed crest;Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heelAnd 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 JupiterWhen he appeared to hapless Semele,More lovely than the monarch of the skyIn wanton Arethusa's azure arms,And none but thou shalt be my paramour.