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Act 3, Scene 1

Enter CLEOMENES and DION.

CLEOMEMES: 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     [5]
Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly
It was i' th' offering!

CLEOMEMES:      But of all, the burst
And the ear-deafening voice o' th' oracle,
Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense,     [10]
That I was nothing.

DION:                If th' event o' th' 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.

CLEOMEMES:                     Great Apollo
Turn all to th' best! These proclamations,     [15]
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 sealed up)
Shall the contents discover, something rare     [20]
Even then will rush to knowledge. Go; fresh horses!
And gracious be the issue

Exeunt.


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