.
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 sometime
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 such riches
Ready to drop upon me,
that when I wak’d
I cried
to dream again.
