Knowing thine eye looks proudly on thy child,
So shall my heart have strength.
Gon. Would, would to God,
That I might die for thee, my noble boy!
Alphonso, my fair son!
Alph. Could I have lived,
I might have been a warrior! Now, farewell!
But look upon me still!—I will not blench
When the keen sabre flashes. Mark me well!
Mine eyelids shall not quiver as it falls,