Our Revels now are ended: These our actors(As I foretold you) were all Spirits, andAre melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre,And like the baselesse fabricke of this visionThe Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces,The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,And like this insubstantial Pageant fadedLeave not a racke behinde: we are such stuffeAs dreames are made on; and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleepe… -WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, The Tempest, act IV, scene i, The First Folio, 1623
