Besedila: Marianne Faithfull. Epilogue.

Our revels now our ended
These are actors, as I foretold you
We're all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air

And like the baseless fabric of this vision
The cloud capped towers, the gorgeous palaces
The solemn temples, the great globe itself

Yeah, all which it inherit shall dissolve
And like this insubstantial pageant faded
Leave not a rack behind

We are such stuff as dreams are made of
And our little life is rounded
With a sleep