your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink. Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor? It's dry, sir. Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? A dry jest, sir. Are you full of them? Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I see thee so put down? 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. No question. An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. Pourquoi, my dear knight? What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but followed the arts! Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. Why, would that have mended my hair? Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. But it becomes me well enough, does't not? Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin it off. 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. She'll none o' the 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. I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight? As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? Faith, I can cut a caper. And I can cut the mutton to't. And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria. Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in a coranto? My