Thursday, April 11, 2013
Prospero: our revels are now ended.
these our actors,
as i fortold you, were all spirits and
are melted into the air, into thin air,
and, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
the cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous
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.
shakespeare - the tempest.