Be not afeard: the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling [bad word] 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 me thought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me; that, when I wak'd,
I cried to dream again.

From The Tempest, Act 3 Scene 2