The Tempest

by William Shakespeare

“Hell is empty, And all the devils are here.”

Hear my soul speak: 75 The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides, To make me slave to it; and for your sake Am I this patient log-man.

I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of.

Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. 130 Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches 135 Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.

You do look, my son, in a mov’d sort, As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir: Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: 165 And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 170 Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex’d: Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled. Be not disturb’d with my infirmity. 175 If you be pleased, retire into my cell And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk, To still my beating mind.

And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason.