Prospero:

    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.

The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158

William Shakespeare