The Tempest. Act 4, Scene 1. Prospero
(This text is featured in our interview with Richard Sheridan Willis and Robert Richmond)
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177. You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
178. As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir.
179. Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
180. As I foretold you, were all spirits and
181. Are melted into air, into thin air:
182. And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
183. The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
184. The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
185. Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
186. And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
187. Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
188. As dreams are made on, and our little life
189. Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex’d;
190. Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:
191. Be not disturb’d with my infirmity:
192. If you be pleased, retire into my cell
193. And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,
194. To still my beating mind.