Pardon's the word to all.

The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees and they did make no noise, in such a night.

What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*

I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.

What? do I love her, that I desire to hear her speak again, and feast upon her eyes

Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.

Fear and niceness, the handmaids of all women, or more truly, woman its pretty self.