I am dogged by a curse more deadly than your reproaches: for, though surrounded by five sons, my heart shrivels like that of a woman deprived of her children. Through the great rent that yawned for my deserted first-born, all my life's pleasures have run to waste. On that accursed day when I belied my motherhood you could not utter a word; to-day your recreant mother implores you for generous words. Let your forgiveness burn her heart like fire and consume its sin.
KARNA
Mother, accept my tears!
KUNTI
I did not come with the hope of winning you back to my arms, but with that of restoring your rights to you. Come and receive, as a king's son, your due among your brothers.
KARNA
I am more truly the son of a charioteer, and do not covet the glory of greater parentage.
KUNTI
Be that as it may, come and win back the kingdom, which is yours by right!