The Tempest

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 (III.ii.130–138).

I need to work on that drop of ink that fell as I finished this painting.

Will leave it a while and think on what I can do!?

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