Was this the face that launce’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 colors on my plumed crest; Yes, I...