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 towers, 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.

These our actors, 
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:

We are such stuff As dreams are made on, 
and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.