Pr. Geo. A slave, sir! that is for me by far too base a name,
That word deserves to stab thy honour’s fame.
Alex. To be stab’d, sir, is the least of all my care,
Appoint your time and place, I’ll meet you there.
Pr. Geo. I’ll cross the water at the hour of five.
Alex. I’ll meet you there, sir, if I be alive.
Pr. Geo. But stop, sir,—I’d wish you to a wife, both lusty and young,
She can talk both Dutch, French, and the Italian tongue.
Alex. I’ll have none such.
Pr. Geo. Why, don’t you love your learning?