We have seen better days.

He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.

You speak an infinite deal of nothing.

A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.

Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands. Curtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist, Foot is featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Ariel's song, scene II, Act I

I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.

Not stepping over the bounds of modesty.