Delight.

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.

William Shakespeare