Por. Marcus, I know thy gen'rous temper well; Fling but the appearance of dishonour on it, It straight takes fire, and mounts into a blaze. Marc. A brother's suff'rings claim a brother's pity. Por. Heav'n knows, I pity thee——Behold my eyes, Ev'n whilst I speak—Do they not swim in tears? Were but my heart as naked to thy view, Marcus would see it bleed in his behalf.
