" We are such stuff / As dreams are made on; and our little life /
Is rounded with a sleep."
The Tempest, Act 4, scene 1.
I love this, not only because of its rhythms and the subtlety of its imagery but for its essential and universal truth.
Of course, Prospero is referring to the various illusions and visions he has created by his magical arts. However, the metaphor extends to include the play itself, the very business of 'play-acting' and making theatre. But more profoundly again, perhaps, to real life. It reminds us that even our lives are brief, fleeting and in some ways as insubstantial as dreams. So in that sense, it reminds us of our mortality.
This kind of multiple layering of meanings hidden and revealed within such a poetic economy of words is one of the reasons - the main reason in fact - that I love Shakespeare's work.
Thanks for the question. Bless you :)