Procida enters.
Pro. The foe is at your gates;
But hearts and hands prepared shall meet his onset.
Why are ye loitering here?
Cit. My lord, we came—
Pro. Think ye I know not wherefore?—’twas to see
A fellow-being die! Ay, ’tis a sight
Man loves to look on; and the tenderest hearts
Recoil, and yet withdraw not from the scene.
For this ye came. What! is our nature fierce,