Document: All > Shakespeare > Comedies > The Winter's Tale > Act III, scene I
[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!
THE WINTER'S TALE