Enter Petruchio and his man Grumio.
PETRUCHIO.
Verona, for a while I take my leave,
To see my friends in Padua; but of all
My best beloved and approved friend,
Hortensio; and I trow this is his house.
Here, sirrah Grumio, knock, I say.
GRUMIO.
Knock, sir? Whom should I knock? Is there any man has rebused your worship?
PETRUCHIO.
Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.
GRUMIO.
Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that I should knock you here, sir?
PETRUCHIO.
Villain, I say, knock me at this gate;
And rap me well, or I’ll knock your knave’s pate.
GRUMIO.
My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst.
PETRUCHIO.
Will it not be?
Faith, sirrah, and you’ll not knock, I’ll ring it;
I’ll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.
[He wrings Grumio by the ears.]
GRUMIO.
Help, masters, help! my master is mad.