O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.
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 lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.
Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?