Original
Modern English
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 Mytilene To greet the king. So he thrived, That he is promised 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 fancy’s thankful doom.
Now our time is almost up; A little more, and then silence. This, my final request, grant me, For such kindness must relieve me, That you will easily guess What ceremonies, what feats, what shows, What music, and lovely noise, The ruler of Mytilene made To welcome the king. He did so well, That he’s promised to marry The beautiful Marina; but not until He’s made his sacrifice, As Diana instructed: and once he’s done that, The wait, I pray, confound all of you. With great speed, sails are filled, And wishes come true as desired. In Ephesus, see the temple, With our king and his entire group. That he’s come here so quickly, Is thanks to your thoughtful will.