Cleo.
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'th' Offering!

Cleo.
But of all, the Burst
And the Ear-deafning Voice o'th' Oracle,
Kin to Jove's Thunder, so surpris'd my Sense,
That I was nothing.

Dio.
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.

Cleo.
Great Apollo,
Turn all to th' best! These Proclamations,
So forcing Faults upon Hermione,
I little like.

Dio.
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. [Exeunt.

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