The Winter's Tale
Act III, Scene 1
A sea-port in Sicilia.
[Enter CLEOMENES and DION]
- Cleomenes. The climate's delicate, the air most sweet,
Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing
The common praise it bears.
- Dion. I shall report,
For most it caught me, the celestial habits,
Methinks I so should term them, and the reverence
Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly
It was i' the offering!
- Cleomenes. But of all, the burst
And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle,
Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense.
That I was nothing.
- Dion. If the event o' the journey
Prove 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 Apollo
Turn all to the best! These proclamations,
So forcing faults upon Hermione,
I little like.
- Dion. The violent carriage of it
Will clear or end the business: when the oracle,
Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up,
Shall the contents discover, something rare
Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh horses!
And gracious be the issue!