Act 3 - Scene 1
A sea-port in Sicilia.
Enter CLEOMENES and DION
The climate's delicate, the air most sweet,
Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing
The common praise
I shall report,
For most it caught me, the celestial habits,
Methinks I so should term them, and the reverence
the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly
It was i' the offering!
But of all, the burst
And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle,
Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense.
I was nothing.
If the event o' the journey
Prove as successful to the queen, O be't so!
As it hath been to us rare, pleasant,
The time is worth the use on't.
Turn all to the best! These proclamations,
So forcing faults upon Hermione,
I little like.
The violent carriage of it
Will clear or end the business: when the oracle,
Thus by Apollo's great divine
Shall the contents discover, something rare
Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh horses!
gracious be the issue!
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