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Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?

Gru. O ay, Curtis, ay, and therefore fire, fire; cast on no water.

Curt. Is she so hot a shrew as she’s reported?

Gru. She was, good Curtis, before this frost; but thou know’st winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam’d my old master and my new mistress and myself, fellow Curtis.

Curt. Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.

Gru. Am I but three inches? Why, thy horn is a foot, and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress, whose hand (she being now at hand) thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office?

Curt. I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world?

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.

Gru. Why, “Jack, boy! ho, boy!” and as much news as wilt thou.