The climate's delicate, the air most sweet,
3.1.21147Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing
The common praise it bears. I shall report,
3.1.41150For most it caught me, the celestial habits,
3.1.51151Methinks I so should term them, and the reverence
3.1.61152Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice,
3.1.71153How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly
It was i'th'offering! But of all, the burst
3.1.91156And the ear-deafening voice o'th'oracle,
3.1.101157Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense
That I was nothing. If th' event o'th' journey
3.1.121160Prove as successful to the queen--O, be't so--
3.1.131161As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy,
The time is worth the use on't. Great Apollo,
3.1.151164Turn all to th'best! These proclamations,
I little like. The violent carriage of it
3.1.181168Will clear or end the business when the oracle
3.1.201170Shall the contents discover, something rare
3.1.211171Even then will rush to knowledge. Go. Fresh horses!
Exeunt.