A lesson, at each step, for iron power
To feel for fellow men:—Our wasted soldiers
Dropping upon their watch; the dying mother
Wailing her famish'd child; the meagre son
Grasping his father's hand in agony,
Till their sunk eyes exchange a feeble gleam
Of love and blessing, and they both expire.
King. Your citizens may thank themselves for't; wilfulness
Does ever thus recoil upon itself.
Eust. Sworn liegemen to their master, and their monarch,