CAMILLA.
I desire,
Where'er it dropped, to seek it.
ALBANIO.
That will tire
Still more my dear Camilla; leave that toil!
I'll find the clasp; I cannot bear the soil
Should scorch my enemy's white feet;—
CAMILLA.
Well, well,
Since you're so good—behold that beechen dell
In sunshine, look straight forward, there, below;
A full round hour I've there been spending:
ALBANIO.
So!
I see it now; but meanwhile pray don't go.
CAMILLA.
Swain, rest assured that I will die before
Thy apprehending hands affright me more.