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Monologue

Hecuba Monologue from The Trojan Women

From The Trojan Women by Euripides

female · anguished · 30 sec

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Peace, child: wait thy doom. Our lots are near the trying. And I the aged, where go I, A winter-frozen bee, a slave Death-shapen, as the stones that lie Hewn on a dead man's grave: The children of mine enemy To foster, or keep watch before The threshold of a master's door, I that was Queen in Troy!

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