Shakespeare
- The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air: And like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
