Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and all foul
ways! Was ever man so beaten? Was ever man so 'rayed? Was
ever man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they are
coming after to warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soon
hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of
my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw
me. But I with blowing the fire shall warm myself. For, considering
the weather, a taller man than I will take cold.—Holla,
Who is that calls so coldly?
A piece of ice. If thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from my
shoulder to my heel with no greater a run but my head and my neck. A
fire, good Curtis.
Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?
5Oh, ay, Curtis, ay, and therefore fire, fire. Cast on no
Is she so hot a shrew as she’s reported?