From "The Merchant of Venice," Act V, sc. 1
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
There's not the smallest orb which thou beholds't
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims;
Such harmony is an immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
William Shakespeare, 1564-1616