Oh, monstrous! Oh, strange! We are haunted! (III.i)
Thou art wise as thou art beautiful. (III.i.)
Come; wait upon him. Lead him to my bower.
The moon methinks looks with a wat’ry eye,
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,
Lamenting some enforcèd chastity.
Tie up my love’s tongue; bring him silently. (III.i.)