The Tempest

Well, I found Joyce and Beckett in The Tempest. Line 165:

Our revels now ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which is inert, shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Maybe I'm just seeing things but I couldn't stop myself from breaking out my highlighter again while reading. All these references to the play within itself breaking the story line. The mention of the Globe. Damned if it doesn't scream Beckett at me. Our little life being rounded with sleep. This all Joyce. It's Finnegans Wake. Or I'm completely off my rocker, either way, it doesn't matter because I like it!