No Fear Shakespeare
The Taming of the Shrew
Get this No Fear to go!
Act 4, Scene 1, Page 2
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GRUMIO
She was, good Curtis, before this frost. But thou knowest winter
tames man, woman and beast, for it hath tamed my old master and my
new mistress and myself, fellow Curtis.
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GRUMIO
Well she was, good Curtis, before this frost. But you know how
winter tames man, woman, and beast. And it’s tamed my old
master and my new mistress and myself, my good colleague.
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CURTIS
Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.
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CURTIS
Who are you calling “beast,” midget.
You’re no bigger than three inches!
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GRUMIO
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?
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GRUMIO
Three inches? Really? Your horn is a foot long, and I’m
at least that size. Now are you going to make a fire, or am I going
to have to report you to our mistress, whose hand, now that she is
herself at hand, you’ll be feeling soon. You’ll
find it cold comfort, but that’s what you get for being
slow with your warming duties.
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CURTIS
I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world?
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CURTIS
So tell me, Grumio, how goes the world?
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GRUMIO
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.
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GRUMIO
Cold, Curtis. It’s a cold world, except for people who
have to start fires. Therefore, do your duty and take your reward,
because my master and mistress are nearly frozen to death.
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CURTIS
There’s fire ready. And therefore, good Grumio, the
news.
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CURTIS
The fire is ready. So go on, tell me the news.
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GRUMIO
Why, “Jack, boy! Ho, boy!” and as much
news as wilt thou.
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GRUMIO
“Why, Jack boy, ho boy!” and all the news
you want.
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CURTIS
Come, you are so full of cony-catching!
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CURTIS
Oh, you’re just so
funny.
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GRUMIO
Why, therefore fire, for I have caught extreme cold.
Where’s the cook? Is supper ready, the house trimmed,
rushes strewed, cobwebs swept, the servingmen 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
everything in order?
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GRUMIO
Well, make a fire, then. I think I’m getting delirious.
Where’s the cook? Is supper ready? Is the house fixed up,
the floor covered, the cobwebs swept out of the corners, the
servingmen in their new work clothes and the household servants each
in his wedding suit? Are all the cups and glasses in their places,
the tablecloths laid out—everything in order?
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