With eastern banners flaunting in the breeze
Royal processions, sounding fife and gong
And showering jewels on the jostling throng,
March to the tramp of Marlowe's harmonies.
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The tragic ending of his youthful life; The revelry of kisses bought with gold, The jest and jealous rival and the strife, A harlot weeping o'er a corpse scarce cold, A scullion fleeing with a knife. full of emotions., tony
A harlot weeping o'er a corpse scarce cold, A scullion fleeing with a knife. /// yeah really it's melancholic and tragic ending; written greatly