Why, I think so; I am not such an ass but I can keep my
hand dry. But what's your jest?

MARIA.
A dry jest, sir.

SIR ANDREW.
Are you full of them?

MARIA.
Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let
go your hand I am barren.

[Exit MARIA.]

SIR TOBY.
O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary: When did I see
thee so put down?

SIR ANDREW.
Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put
me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian
or an ordinary man has; but I am great eater of beef, and, I
believe, that does harm to my wit.

SIR TOBY.
No question.

SIR ANDREW.
An I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home