Which then when Fate has dared its ugliest
Can lift the veil that shrouds it from the feel
Of duty and of reverence for the truth.
Titus.
Good. I will swear the oath to you.
Mar.
Then know
I put deceit on Herod, but ’twas other,
Far other than he weens; nay, I was true
As he to self. Why shame me thus—much truer,