Gui. (aside.) I look upon his mien,
And waver. Can it be? My boyish heart
Deem’d him so noble once! Away, weak thoughts!
Why should I shrink, as if the guilt were mine,
From his proud glance?
Pro. O thou dissembler! thou,
So skill’d to clothe with virtue’s generous flush
The hollow cheek of cold hypocrisy,
That, with thy guilt made manifest, I can scarce
Believe thee guilty!—look on me, and say