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.]

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 a great eater of beef, and I
believe that does harm to my wit.

SIR TOBY.
No question.

SIR ANDREW.
And I thought that, I'd forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow,
Sir Toby.