_Gru._ A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and therefore fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for my master and mistress are almost frozen to death. _Curt._ There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news. 35 _Gru._ Why, 'Jack, boy! ho! boy!' and as much news as thou wilt. _Curt._ Come, you are so full of cony-catching! _Gru._ Why, therefore fire; for I have caught extreme cold. Where's the cook? is supper ready, the house trimmed, 40 rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the serving-men in their new fustian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, the carpets laid, and every thing in order? _Curt._ All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news. 45 _Gru._ First, know, my horse is tired; my master and mistress fallen out. _Curt._ How? _Gru._ Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a tale. 50 _Curt._ Let's ha't, good Grumio. _Gru._ Lend thine ear. _Curt._ Here. _Gru._ There. [_Strikes him._ _Curt._ This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. 55 _Gru._ 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,-- _Curt._ Both of one horse? 60 _Gru._ What's that to thee? _Curt._ Why, a horse. _Gru._ 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 65 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, 70 how I lost my crupper, with many things of worthy memory, which now shall die in oblivion and thou return unexperienced to thy grave. _Curt._ By this reckoning he is more shrew than she. _Gru._ Ay; and that thou and the proudest of you all 75 shall find when he comes home. But what talk I of this? Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop and the rest: let their heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats brushed and their garters of an indifferent knit: let them curtsy with their left legs and not presume 80 to touch a hair of my master's horse-tail till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready? _Curt._ They are. _Gru._ Call them forth.