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 Towers, the gorgeous Palaces,

The solemn Temples, the great Globe itself,

Ye 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 of, and our little Life

Is rounded with a Sleep.

William Shakespeare