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Our Revels Now Are Ended (The Tempest)
by
William Shakespeare
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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 Ye 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
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