Ay?

SEG.
Ay; and even told me of the very stars
You tell me here of--how in spite of them,
I was enlarged to all that glory.

CLO.
Ay, By the false spirits' nice contrivance thus
A little truth oft leavens all the false,
The better to delude us.

SEG.
For you know
'Tis nothing but a dream?

CLO.
Nay, you yourself
Know best how lately you awoke from that
You know you went to sleep on?--
Why, have you never dreamt the like before?

SEG.
Never, to such reality.

CLO.
Such dreams
Are oftentimes the sleeping exhalations
Of that ambition that lies smouldering
Under the ashes of the lowest fortune;