Caliban:
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 waked 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 waked,/ I cried to dream again.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 07:47
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