"Our revels are now ended: the 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..."
The Tempest, act iv, scene one
(tela: Miranda and Ferdinand de Angelica Kauffmann - 1782)
