But what's your jest?

MAR. A dry jest, sir.

SIR AND. Are you full of them?

MAR. Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends. Marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren.

 

Exit Maria.

 

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

SIR AND. 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 TO. No question.

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

SIR TO. Pourquoi, my dear knight?

SIR AND. What is ›pourquoi‹? Do, or not do? I would I had bestow'd that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing, and bear-baiting. O had I but follow'd the arts!

SIR TO. Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair.

SIR AND. Why, would that have mended my hair?

SIR TO. Past question, for thou seest it will not [curl by] nature.

SIR AND. But it becomes [me] well enough, does't not?

SIR TO. Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs, and spin it off.

SIR AND. Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Your niece will not be seen, or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me. The Count himself here hard by woos her.

SIR TO. She'll none o' th' Count. She'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man.

SIR AND. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' th' strangest mind i' th' world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether.

SIR TO. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight?

SIR AND. As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters, and yet I will not compare with an old man.

SIR TO.