Whether my paths have been so seldom cross’d
By honour and fair mercy, that they seem
But beautiful deceptions, meeting thus
My unaccustom’d gaze: howe’er it be—
I doubt thee! See thou waver not—take heed.
Time lifts the veil from all things!
[Exit Procida.
Raim. And ’tis thus
Youth fades from off our spirit; and the robes
Of beauty and of majesty, wherewith