Plimoth Plantation is Plymouth as it was in the 17th century: it is a centuries-old Wampanoag homesite, a welcoming bench covered in furs, bluefish roasting slowly over an bed of hot coals, and a man dressed in traditional deerskin clothing. It is townspeople speaking the poetic language of Shakespeare's England, the sharp smell of gunpowder during a military drill, the sound of laughter around a glowing hearth and the salty breeze blowing across a wooden ship's deck.