CURTIS.
Let’s ha’t, good Grumio.
GRUMIO.
Lend thine ear.
CURTIS.
Here.
GRUMIO.
[Striking him.] There.
CURTIS.
This ’tis to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.
GRUMIO.
And therefore ’tis called a sensible tale; and this cuff was but to knock at your ear and beseech listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress,—
CURTIS.
Both of one horse?
GRUMIO.
What’s that to thee?
CURTIS.
Why, a horse.
GRUMIO.
Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me, thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell, and she under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how miry a place, how she was bemoiled; how he left her with the horse upon her; how he beat me because her horse stumbled; how she waded through the dirt to pluck him off me: how he swore; how she prayed, that never prayed before; how I cried; how the horses ran away; how her bridle was burst; how I lost my crupper; with many things of worthy memory, which now shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienced to thy grave.