Gru. Am I but three inches? Why thy horne is a foot and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complaine on thee to our mistris, whose hand (she being now at hand) thou shalt soone feele, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office
Cur. I prethee good Grumio, tell me, how goes the
world?
Gru. A cold world Curtis in euery office but thine, &
therefore fire: do thy duty, and haue thy dutie, for my
Master and mistris are almost frozen to death
Cur. There's fire readie, and therefore good Grumio
the newes
Gru. Why Iacke boy, ho boy, and as much newes as
wilt thou
Cur. Come, you are so full of conicatching
Gru. Why therefore fire, for I haue caught extreme cold. Where's the Cooke, is supper ready, the house trim'd, rushes strew'd, cobwebs swept, the seruingmen in their new fustian, the white stockings, and euery officer his wedding garment on? Be the Iackes faire within, the Gils faire without, the Carpets laide, and euerie thing in order? Cur. All readie: and therefore I pray thee newes
Gru. First know my horse is tired, my master & mistris
falne out
Cur. How?
Gru. Out of their saddles into the durt, and thereby
hangs a tale
Cur. Let's ha't good Grumio
Gru. Lend thine eare