Ah, how could poore Æneas scape their hands? Æn. My mother Venus iealous of my health, Conuaid me from their crooked nets and bands: So I escapt the furious Pirrhus wrath: Who then ran to the pallace of the King, And at Ioues Altar finding Priamus, About whose withered necke hung Hecuba, Foulding his hand in hers, and ioyntly both Beating their breasts and falling on the ground, He with his faulchions poynt raisde vp at once, And with Megeras eyes stared in their face, Threatning a thousand deaths at euery glaunce. To whom the aged King thus trembling spoke: Achilles sonne, remember what I was, Father of fiftie sonnes, but they are slaine, Lord of my fortune, but my fortunes turnd, King of this Citie, but my Troy is fired, And now am neither father, Lord, nor King: Yet who so wretched but desires to liue? O let me liue, great Neoptolemus, Not mou'd at all, but smiling at his teares, This butcher whil'st his hands were yet held vp, Treading vpon his breast, strooke off his hands.

Dido Monologue from The Tragedy of Dido Queene of Carthage

Rehearse Dido's monologue