Our revels now are ended. These our actors,        
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and               148
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,               152
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve        
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,        
Leave not a rack 20 behind. We are such stuff        
As dreams are made on, and our little life               156
Is rounded with a sleep.

WHOOSH!!!