Act IIIScene I
Sicilia. A Street in some Town
Enter Cleomenes and Dion.
Cleomenes
The climate’s delicate; the air most sweet,Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassingThe common praise it bears.
Dion
I shall report,For most it caught me, the celestial habits(Methinks I so should term them) and the reverenceOf the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly,It was i’ th’ offering!
Cleomenes
But of all, the burstAnd the ear-deaf’ning voice o’ th’ oracle,Kin to Jove’s thunder, so surprised my senseThat I was nothing.
Dion
If the event o’ th’ journeyProve as successful to the queen,—O, be’t so!—As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy,The time is worth the use on’t.
Cleomenes
Great ApolloTurn all to th’ best! These proclamations,So forcing faults upon Hermione,I little like.
Dion
The violent carriage of itWill clear or end the business: when the oracle,(Thus by Apollo’s great divine seal’d up)Shall the contents discover, something rareEven then will rush to knowledge. Go. Fresh horses!And gracious be the issue!
Exeunt.