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-capped towers, the 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 madeof, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

Shakespeare