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". . .THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTURE OF THE WORLDE. . . ." I laugh the road over the Hog's Back closed because....it melted was the sun ever so back in your day eh Kit? and what do I read Mr. Marlowe? why words, Kit, words that word magician Dr. Burgess he presumes to bring you back to life again and so it seems I see your blood Kit streaming in the firmament nay only a Deptford sunset dragged screaming from memory your blood upon the page Kit... mere cherry juice it stains the words and so to Deptford I do go thanks to Madame Remembrance I a poor purveyor of poetry clutching at words and here a great reckoning not  in a little room but on a lost street staining the scene a sickly yellow and so enough of Prologue... Act 1 begins a smiling ruffian see his knife smiles too the blade eager for blood alas I in so much pain I have no fear of death indeed would welcome the flicked knife if it would release me from my life a man prepared to die if it be so "Come live with me and be my love..." I doth quote in my best Passionate Shepard "Wot?" he wots scared of my insouciance the ghost of Marlowe by my side ahhh he the very villian a scar from eye to smile he aims to do the same to me "Where, rogue... did they get thee?" I mock "VILLIANS 'R' US?" Marlowe's ghost laughs "Aye lad...aye lad to him!" "Only one of us..." I warn my hellhound "....will come out of this alive!" I pause for effect "And I'm afraid it won't be( hee hee ) thee!" I take a determined step towards my would-be now trembling killer who all this wordage being too much for him he flees ahhh the glint of words defeats the glint of steel he my would-be-not-to-be-death "What God or Feend, or spirit of the earth, Or Monster turned to manly shape Or of what mould or mettle he be made...?" I declaim to an audience of cats and cans and other streetly filth I...I. . .unable to find the next line and so I etc., etc., etc. and once more I am of Guildford yet again 30 years or more away and there melts a road upon the Hog's Back and I laugh to be alive "Doth teach vs all to have aspyring mindes: Our soules, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the worlde.."
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Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 5:04 AM UTC
". . .THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTURE OF THE WORLDE. . . ."
". . .THE WONDROUS ARCHITECTURE OF THE WORLDE. . . ." I laugh the road over the Hog's Back closed because....it melted was the sun ever so back in your day eh Kit? and what do I read Mr. Marlowe? why words, Kit, words that word magician Dr. Burgess he presumes to bring you back to life again and so it seems I see your blood Kit streaming in the firmament nay only a Deptford sunset dragged screaming from memory your blood upon the page Kit... mere cherry juice it stains the words and so to Deptford I do go thanks to Madame Remembrance I a poor purveyor of poetry clutching at words and here a great reckoning not  in a little room but on a lost street staining the scene a sickly yellow and so enough of Prologue... Act 1 begins a smiling ruffian see his knife smiles too the blade eager for blood alas I in so much pain I have no fear of death indeed would welcome the flicked knife if it would release me from my life a man prepared to die if it be so "Come live with me and be my love..." I doth quote in my best Passionate Shepard "Wot?" he wots scared of my insouciance the ghost of Marlowe by my side ahhh he the very villian a scar from eye to smile he aims to do the same to me "Where, rogue... did they get thee?" I mock "VILLIANS 'R' US?" Marlowe's ghost laughs "Aye lad...aye lad to him!" "Only one of us..." I warn my hellhound "....will come out of this alive!" I pause for effect "And I'm afraid it won't be( hee hee ) thee!" I take a determined step towards my would-be now trembling killer who all this wordage being too much for him he flees ahhh the glint of words defeats the glint of steel he my would-be-not-to-be-death "What God or Feend, or spirit of the earth, Or Monster turned to manly shape Or of what mould or mettle he be made...?" I declaim to an audience of cats and cans and other streetly filth I...I. . .unable to find the next line and so I etc., etc., etc. and once more I am of Guildford yet again 30 years or more away and there melts a road upon the Hog's Back and I laugh to be alive "Doth teach vs all to have aspyring mindes: Our soules, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the worlde.."
TAMBURLAINE: "Nature, that fram'd us of four elements Warring within our ******* for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds. Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend The wondrous architecture of the world, And measure every wandering planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Wills us to wear ourselves and never rest, Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, That perfect bliss and sole felicity, The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.” ― Christopher Marlowe, Tamburlaine the Great, Part 1 ORTYGIUS What god, or fiend, or spirit of the earth, Or monster turned to a manly shape, Or of what mould or mettle he be made, What star or fate soever govern him, Let us put on our meet encountering minds; And, in detesting such a devilish thief, In love of honour and defence of right, Be arm'd against the hate of such a foe, Whether from earth, or hell, or heaven he grow. ― Christopher Marlowe, Tamburlaine the Great ACT II, Scene VI. Poetry Foundation Navigation About Us Visit Contact Us Newsletters Give Browse poems on your phone.Download the POETRY app from the Poetry Foundation! POEMS & POETS FEATURES RESOURCES PROGRAMS & INITIATIVES POETRY MAGAZINE Search the Site Search poems, poets, videos … Search Home Poems & Poets Browse Poems The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe POEM RELATED CONTENT Discover this poem's context and related poetry. Facebook Twitter Tumblr Email Share Print The Passionate Shepherd to His Love Related Poem Content Details BY CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE 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. 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 posies, 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 Shepherds’ 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.
donall-dempsey
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Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 5:04 AM UTC
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