Sonnet 11.

REstore thy treasure to the golden ore,
Yeeld Cythereas sonne those arckes of loue,
Bequeath the heauens the starres that I adore,
And to the Orient doo thy pearles remoue.

Yeeld thy hands pride vnto the iuory white,
To Arabian odor giue thy breathing sweete,
Restore thy blush vnto Aurora bright,
To Thetis giue the honour of thy feete.

Let Venus haue the graces hir resignd,
And thy sweete voyce yeeld to Hermonius spheares:
But yet restore thy fierce and cruell minde
To Hircan Tygers, and to ruthlesse Beares;
Yeeld to the Marble thy hard heart againe:
So shalt thou cease to plague, and I to paine.