Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Winters Tale/Act 3 Scene 1
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Cleomines and Dion.
Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre most sweet,Fertile the Isle, the Temple much surpassingThe common prayse it beares.
Dion. I shall report,For most it caught me, the Celestiall Habits,(Me thinkes I so should terme them) and the reuerenceOf the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice,How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthlyIt was i'th' Offring?
Cleo. But of all, the burstAnd the eare-deaff'ning Voyce o'th' Oracle,Kin to Ioues Thunder, so surpriz'd my Sence,That I was nothing.
Dio. If th' euent o'th' IourneyProue as successefull to the Queene (O be't so)As it hath beene to vs, rare, pleasant, speedie,The time is worth the vse on't.
Cleo. Great ApolloTurne all to th' best: these Proclamations,So forcing faults vpon Hermione,I little like.
Dio. The violent carriage of itWill cleare, or end the Businesse, when the Oracle(Thus by Apollo's great Diuine seal'd vp)Shall the Contents discouer: something rareEuen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horses,Exeunt.And gracious be the issue.