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Well, here you see his home with its two portals,  his rocky cell. Chorus
And its wretched occupant, where is he gone to? Neoptolemus
It seems clear to me, anyway, that he is plowing his way along somewhere near here in search of food. For I know of a report that  this is his means of sustenance—a wretch wretchedly shooting prey with his feathered shafts—and that no one comes near to him to heal his misery.
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