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-capped 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 of, and our little life Is rounded with sleep. SHAKESPEARE.] End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Golden Grain, by Various