ALBANIO.
Frenzy should it be,
That makes me love—oh more than life,—the cause
Of all my grief, who scorns me and abhors.
CAMILLA.
I ought, methinks, to be abhorred by thee,
To make thy speeches with thy deeds agree;
To seek to treat me so, at such a time!
Outrage on outrage heaping, crime on crime.
ALBANIO.
I commit outrage against thee! May I
In thy disgrace, my dear Camilla, die,
CAMILLA.
Hast thou not
Infringed our friendship on this very spot,
Seeking to turn it by a course amiss
From placid thoughts?
ALBANIO.
Oh holy Artemis!
Must the distraction of a single hour
Whole years of fond attention overpower,
When, too, repentance mourns the fault, and when—