Pro. You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort,

As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir,

Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors,

(As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and

Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre,

And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision

The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces,

The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe,

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue,

And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded

Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe

As dreames are made on; and our little life

Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext,

Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled:

Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie,

If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell,

And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke

To still my beating minde