Now our sands are almost run;

5.2.22237More a little, and then dumb.

5.2.32238This my last boon kindly give me,

5.2.42239For such kindness must relieve me:

5.2.52240That you aptly will suppose

5.2.62241What pageantry, what feats, what shows,

5.2.72242What minstrelsy and pretty din

5.2.82243The regent made in Metalin

5.2.92244To greet the king. So he thrived

5.2.102245That he is promised to be wived

5.2.112246To fair Marina, but in no wise

5.2.122247Till he had done his sacrifice,

5.2.132248As Dian bad. Whereto being bound,

5.2.142249The interim, pray you, all confound.

5.2.152250In feathered briefness sails are filled,

5.2.162251And wishes fall out as they're willed.

5.2.172252At Ephesus the temple see

5.2.182253Our king and all his company.

5.2.192254That he can hither come so soon

5.2.202255Is by your fancies' thankful doom.