The father didn't curse the king. He didn't even let slip a single harsh word, though his heart was wounded as deeply as his son's body. You could say he did well to hold back his words. Even if he had spoken in anger, he could never have expressed what he truly felt as a father. I think he showed more wisdom in that moment than when he tried to control the drinking of a man who was better suited to drinking wine than drinking blood — a man who only granted peace when his hands were busy with his wine cup. By staying silent, the father joined the ranks of those who learned the hard way how little kings care about good advice from their friends.
He did not curse the king, he did not so much as let fall a single inauspicious word, though he felt his own heart as deeply wounded as that of his son. He may be said to have done well in choking down his words; for though he might have spoken as an angry man, yet he could not have expressed what he felt as a father. He may, I repeat, be thought to have behaved with greater wisdom on that occasion than when he tried to regulate the drink of one who was better employed in drinking wine than in drinking blood, and who granted men peace while his hands were busy with the winecup. He, therefore, added one more to the number of those who have shown to their bitter cost how little kings care for their friends’ good advice.