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 sleep again