Christopher Marlowe

Jack
_ Seest thou not yon farmer's son
He hath stoln my love from me, alas
What shall I do

I
LK'D along a stream, for pureness rare,  Brighter than sun-shine; for it did
The dullest sight with all the glorious
That in the pebble-paved channel lay

Black is the beauty of the brightest day,
The golden ball of heaven's eternal fire,
That danced with glory on the silver waves,
Now wants the fuel that inflamed his beams:

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 live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

from Hero and
It lies not in our power to love, or hate, For will in us is over-rulde by fate
When two are stript long ere the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win
And one especially doo we affect, Of two gold I...