This, O king, grieveth me
more than death in battle. If we all die in fair fight without turning
our backs on the foe, even that would be better than this exile, for
then we should obtain regions of bliss in the other world. Or, if, O
bull of the Bharata race, having slain them all, we acquire the entire
earth, that would be prosperity worth the trial. We who ever adhere to
the customs of our order, who ever desire grand achievements, who wish
to avenge our wrongs, have this for our bounden duty. Our kingdom
wrested from us, if we engage in battle, our deeds when known to the
world will procure for us fame and not slander. And that virtue, O king,
which tortureth one's own self and friends, is really no virtue. It is
rather vice, producing calamities. Virtue is sometimes also the weakness
of men. And though such a man might ever be engaged in the practice of
virtue, yet both virtue and profit forsake him, like pleasure and pain
forsaking a person that is dead. He that practiseth virtue for virtue's
sake always suffereth.
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