Be not afeard, 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 sometimes voices
That, if i then had wak'd after a long sleep
will make me sleep again; and in dreaming,
the clouds methought would open and show riches
ready to drop upon me, that when i wak'd,
I cried to dream again,
~from The Tempest
How now, spirit! whither wander you?
