Who can be like this man, that slew his son,
Yet wears his life still proudly, and a soul
Untamed upon his brow?
(After a pause.) There’s one, whose arms
Have borne my children in their infancy,
And on whose knees they sported, and whose hand
Hath led them oft—a vassal of their sire’s;
And I will seek him: he may lend me aid,
When all beside pass on.