But cannot bolt him. If he be a-bobbing,*

'Tis not my care can cure him: To-morrow-morn.

ing

I shall have further knowledge from a surgeon's, Where he lies moor'd, to mend his leaks.

Enter CONSTANTIA veiled, from the House.

Con. I am ready,

And through a world of dangers am flown to you; Be full of haste and care, we are undone else. Where are your people? which way must we travel? For Heaven sake stay not here, sir.

Fred. What may this prove?

Con. Alas, I am mistaken, lost, undone,

For ever perish'd!-Sir, for Heaven sake, tell me, Are you a gentleman ?

Fred. I am.

Con. Of this place?

Fred. No, born in Spain.

Con. As ever you loved honour,

As ever your desires may gain their ends,
Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit,
For I am forced to trust you!

Fred. You have charm'd me;'

If he be a-bobbing.] To bob is generally used for to cheat, or to rail, make a fool of. Neither of these meanings serve in the present instance, where the word is evidently used in a wanton sense, derived, perhaps, from the particular kind of angling called bobbing. So in King's well-known description of a giant amusing himself with angling:

"His angle-rod made of a sturdy oak,

His line a cable, which in storms ne'er broke,
His hook he baited with a dragon's tail,

And sate upon a rock, and bobb'd for whale."

5 You have charm'd me.] That is, you have bound me to your service, as it were by enchantment.

Humanity and honour bid me help you,
And if I fail your trust

Con. The time's too dangerous

To stay your protestations: I believe you-
Alas, I must believe you. From this place,
Good noble sir, remove me instantly,

And for a time, where nothing but yourself,
And honest conversation, may come near me,
In some secure place, settle me: What I am,
And why thus boldly I commit my credit
Into a stranger's hand, the fears and dangers
That force me to this wild course, at more leisure
I shall reveal unto you.

Fred. Come, be hearty;

He must strike through my life that takes you from

me,

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

Another Street.

Enter PETRUCCIO, ANTONIO, and two Gentlemen.

Petr. He will sure come. Are ye well arm'd? Ant. Ne'er fear us:

Here's that will make 'em dance without a fiddle. Petr. We are to look for no weak foes, my friends, Nor unadvised ones.

Ant. Best gamesters make the best game; We shall fight close and handsome then.

-1 Gent. Antonio,

You are a thought too bloody.

Ant. Why? All physicians

And penny almanacks allow the opening

Of veins this month. Why do you talk of bloody?

What come we for? to fall to cuffs for apples?
What, would you make the cause a cudgel-quarrel?
On what terms stands this man? Is not his honour
Open'd to his hand, and pick'd out like an oyster?
His credit like a quart-pot knock'd together,
Able to hold no liquor? Clear but this point.
Petr. Speak softly, gentle cousin.

Ant. I'll speak truly;

What should men do allied to these disgraces? Lick o'er his enemy, sit down, and dance him2 Gent. You are as far o' th' bow-hand now."

Ant. And cry,

That's my fine boy; thou wilt do so no more, child?'

Petr. Here are no such cold pities.

Ant. By Saint Jaques,

They shall not find me one! Here's old tough
Andrew,

A special friend of mine; an he but hold,
I'll strike 'em such a hornpipe! Knocks I come for,
And the best blood I light on; I profess it;
Not to scare coster-mongers:7 If I lose mine own,
Mine audit's cast, and farewell five and fifty!

Petr. Let's talk no longer; place yourselves with
silence,

As I directed ye, and when time calls us,
As ye are friends, so shew yourselves.
Ant. So be it.

[Exeunt.

Bow-hand.] A sea-term, derived from the bow of a ship; which, says Dr Johnson, begins at the loof, and compassing ends of the stern, and ends at the sternmost parts of the forecastle.Ed. 1788.

Coster-mongers.] That is, dealers in apples, which were called costards, from their resembling a costard, or man's head, Falstaff says" "Virtue is of so little regard in these coster-monger times, that true valour is turned bear-herd."

SCENE VIII.

A Room in the Landlady's House.

Enter DON JOHN, with the Child, and Landlady.

Land. Nay, son, if this be your regard

John. Good mother!

Land. Good me no goods! Your cousin and yourself

Are welcome to me, whilst you bear yourselves
Like honest and true gentlemen. Bring hither
To my house, that have ever been reputed
A gentlewoman of a decent and fair carriage,
And so behaved myself

John. I know you have.

Land. Bring hither, as I say, (to make my name
Stink in my neighbour's nostrils) your devices,
Your brats, got out of Aligant, and broken oaths!
Your linsey-woolsy work, your hasty puddings!
I foster up your filch'd iniquities?

You are deceived in me, sir; I am none
Of those receivers.

John. Have I not sworn unto you

'Tis none of mine, and shew'd you how I found it? Land. You found an easy fool that let you get it; She had better have worn pasterns."

Your brats, got out of Alligant.] In Rowley's Match at Midnight, Randal and Ancient Young quarrelling, Sim, another of the characters, interposes, "Gentlemen, there's Alegant in the house pray set no more abroach." The Landlady here means, "Your brats produced by intoxication and faithless promises."Ed. 1778.

? She had better have work pasterns.] I know of no meaning

John. Will you hear me?

Land. Oaths? what do you care for oaths, to gain your ends,

When ye are high and pamper'd? What saint know ye?

Or what religion, but your purposed lewdness,
Is to be look'd for of ye? Nay, I will tell ye,
You will then swear like accused cut-purses,
As far off truth too; and lie beyond all falconers!*
I'm sick to see this dealing.

John. Heaven forbid, mother!
Land. Nay, I am very sick.
John. Who waits there?

Anth. [Within.] Sir.

John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine. Land. Exceeding sick; Heaven help me! John. Haste ye, sirrah.—`

I must even make her drunk. [Apart.] Nay, gentle mother!

Land. Now, fy upon ye! Was it for this purpose You fetch'd your evening-walks for your digestions? For this, pretended holiness? No weather, Not before day, could hold you from the matins. Were these your bo-peep prayers? You have pray'd well,

of the word pasterns, but part of a horse's leg, which would not make sense in this passage, unless it was a phrase formerly in use, the meaning of which is now unknown. Perhaps we should read, She had better have worn pattens; which were the sign of a good housewife, as they protect women from the dirt in walking, and are used only by the meaner sort.

Mason.

Had this commentator turned to Cotgrave, he would have found this unknown meaning, which exactly suits the text, and proves that no alteration is necessary. Cotgrave explains Empas, "shackles, fetters, or pasterns, for unrulie or unbroken horses."

- lie beyond all falconers.] Persons who sold hawks were probably as notorious for lying and cheating, when falconry was a favourite sport, as horse-dealers are at this day."