D R E A M

Be not afraid; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds me thought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.

William Shakespeare, The Tempest