Restore thy tresses to the golden Ore,
Yeelde Cithereas sonne those Arkes of loue;
Bequeath the heauens the starres that I adore,
And to th’Orient do thy Pearles remoue.
Yeelde thy hands pride vnto th’yuory whight,
T’Arabian odors giue thy breathing sweete:
Restore thy blush vnto Aurora bright,
To Thetis giue the honour of thy feete.
Let Venus haue thy graces, her resign’d,
And thy sweete voyce giue backe vnto the Spheares:
But yet restore thy fearce and cruell minde,
To Hyrcan Tygers, and to ruthles Beares.
Yeelde to the Marble thy hard hart againe;
So shalt thou cease to plague, and I to paine.