Before the Temple of DIANA at Ephesus. |
|
Enter GOWER. |
Now our sands are almost run; |
More a little, and then dumb. |
This, my last boon, give me, |
For such kindness must relieve me, |
That you aptly will suppose |
What pageantry, what feats, what shows, |
What minstrelsy, and pretty din, |
The regent made in Mitylen |
To greet the king. So he thriv'd, |
That he is promis'd to be wiv'd |
To fair Marina; but in no wise |
Till he had done his sacrifice, |
As Dian bade: whereto being bound, |
The interim, pray you, all confound. |
In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd, |
And wishes fall out as they 're will'd. |
At Ephesus, the temple see, |
Our king and all his company. |
That he can hither come so soon, |
Is by your fancy's thankful doom. [Exit. |
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