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, 1185
  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! 1190

• 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 1195
  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, 1200
  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, 1205
  Shall the contents discover, something rare
  Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh horses!
  And gracious be the issue!

[Exeunt]