Scene 2
Ephesus. Before the temple of Diana.
(Thaisa, Virgins, Cerimon, Gower)
GOW.
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 Metelin,
To greet the King. So he thrived
That he is promis’d to be wived
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 fancies’ thankful doom.
Exit.
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