Rounded With Sleep

These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air,
And, like the baseless fabric of 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 on, and our little life
Is rounded with sleep.

William Shakespeare, The Tempest, 4.1

The Tempest was produced for the first time on this day in 1611. Certainly my favorite of an astonishing collection…