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 long sleep

Will make me sleep again: and then, 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