Let go my wrist!
Scarce can I breathe; let go, I do insist!
ALBANIO.
Much, much I fear that thou wilt take the wing
Of the wild winds, and flee.
CAMILLA.
Fear no such thing!
With pure fatigue I am quite overcome;
Unhand me! Oh, my dislocated thumb!
ALBANIO.
Wilt thou sit still, if I my grasp forego,
Whilst by clear reasons I proceed to show
That without any reason thou with me
Wert wroth?
CAMILLA.
A pretty reasoner thou wilt be!
Well, free me that I may.
ALBANIO.