Deprived of life. And I, by gadfly stung,
By scourge from Heaven am driven from land to land.
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What has been done thou hearest. And if thou
Can'st tell what yet remains of woe, declare it;
Nor in thy pity soothe me with false words;
For hollow words, I deem, are worst of ills.
Chor. Away, away, let be:
Ne'er thought I that such tales
Would ever, ever come unto mine ears;