CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE (1564-1593), English dramatist, the father of English tragedy.

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE (1564-1593), English dramatist, the father of English tragedy.

Marlowe is famous for his provocative statements. One such statement was "I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance." Christopher Marlowe

Marlowe is famous for his provocative statements. One such statement was "I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance." Christopher Marlowe

“Money can’t buy love” – Christopher Marlowe - More at: http://quotespictures.net/21359/money-cant-buy-love-christopher-marlowe

“Money can’t buy love” – Christopher Marlowe - More at: http://quotespictures.net/21359/money-cant-buy-love-christopher-marlowe

That Old Time Religion: Was 16th-Century Writer Christopher Marlowe an Atheist — and Was He Murdered For It?

That Old Time Religion: Was 16th-Century Writer Christopher Marlowe an Atheist — and Was He Murdered For It?

An anonymous portrait at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, believed to be of Christopher Marlowe. Friend of Sir Thomas Walsingham, cousin of the spymaster Sir Francis, and possibly involved in spy work himself.

Shakespeare’s contemporaries and collaborators [infographic]

Shakespeare's contemporaries and collaborators [infographic

Poet: Christopher Marlowe - All poems of Christopher Marlowe

Poet: Christopher Marlowe - All poems of Christopher Marlowe

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...

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...

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