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κακους δε θνητων εξεφην', οταν τυχη,
προσθεις κατοπτρον, ωστε παρθενος νεα,
χρονος .”
Eurip. Hip. 429.

Time holds to me his silent glass,
Wherein myself I view,
As there from sin to sin I pass,
An image sad and true.
And since that now to manhood grown
I bear no goodly sign,
Hath God's displeasure o'er me gone,
I hasten to decline.
 
“Time, like a youthful maiden, holds his glass,
And shews forth evil men.”