My glance rests on her a moment, and a strange uncertainty comes over me.

Have I really been in Arden, or have I dreamed these things, looking into Rosalind's eyes?
It matters little whether I have travelled or dreamed; where Rosalind is, there, for me at least, lies the Forest of Arden.
AN UNDISCOVERED ISLAND Where should this music be?
i' the air, or th' earth?
It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits upon Some god o' the island..