_Curt._ Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to 85 countenance my mistress! _Gru._ Why, she hath a face of her own. _Curt._ Who knows not that? _Gru._ Thou, it seems, that calls for company to countenance her. 90 _Curt._ I call them forth to credit her. _Gru._ Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. _Enter four or five_ serving-men. _Nath._ Welcome home, Grumio! _Phil._ How now, Grumio! _Jos._ What, Grumio! 95 _Nich._ Fellow Grumio! _Nath._ How now, old lad? _Gru._ Welcome, you;--how now, you;--what, you;--fellow, you;--and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is all ready, and all things neat? 100 _Nath._ All things is ready. How near is our master? _Gru._ E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be not--Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master. _Enter_ PETRUCHIO _and_ KATHARINA. _Pet._ Where be these knaves? What, no man at door To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse! 105 Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? _All Serv._ Here, here, sir; here, sir. _Pet._ Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms! What, no attendance? no regard? no duty? 110 Where is the foolish knave I sent before? _Gru._ Here, sir; as foolish as I was before. _Pet._ You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge! Did I not bid thee meet me in the park, And bring along these rascal knaves with thee? 115 _Gru._ Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel; There was no link to colour Peter's hat, And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing: There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory; 120 The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly; Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. _Pet._ Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in. [_Exeunt Servants._ [_Singing_] Where is the life that late I led-- Where are those--Sit down, Kate, and welcome.-- 125 Soud, soud, soud, soud! _Re-enter_ Servants _with supper_. Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry. Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when? [_Sings._ It was the friar of orders grey, As he forth walked on his way:-- 130 Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry: Take that, and mend the plucking off the other. [_Strikes him._