We tend to think of Hercules as a hero. In this tragedy by Seneca the Younger (4 BC–AD 65) we see him in a very different light, as victim of the vengeance of Juno, queen of the gods, who had always hated him because he was the product of an affair her husband Jupiter had with the mortal Alcmene. First Hercules had to complete twelve fiendishly difficult ‘Labours’ or challenges (see Story 33). Now, upon his return from the last of his labours, which required him to lead to the upper world Cerberus, the three-headed dog who guarded the entrance to the Underworld, Hercules succumbs to the madness Juno incites in him. As this passage begins, Hercules has just defeated Lycus, king of Thebes. He is reunited with his friend Theseus, his ‘father’ Amphitryon, his wife Megara, and their children. This passage comes from the lyrical translation of a sixteenth-century Jesuit priest named Jasper Heywood.

[…] HERCULES. I wyll
the prayers make, for mee

And Jove full meete. yn his due place
Lette stande the haughty skye,

And lande, and ayre, and lette the starres
dryue foorthe eternallye

Their course unstayde: let restfull peace
keepe nations quietlye,

Let labour of the hurtlesse lande
all yron nowe occupye,

And swoordes lye hydde: let tempest none
full vyolent and dyre

Disturbe the sea: let from the skyes
no flashe of lyghtnyng fyre

Fall downe whyle Jove full angry is:
nor yet with wynter snowe

Encreased floode the grownde upturnde
and fieldes quight overthrowe.

Let poysons cease: and from hensfoorth
let up from grownde aryse

No greevous herbe with hurtfull sappe:
nor fierce and fell lykewyse

Let tyrantes raygne: but yf to syght
some other mischiefe bryng

The grownde yet shall, let it make haste:
and any monstrous thyng

If it prepare, let yt bee myne.
but what meanes this? myd daye

The darknes have encloasde abowt,
lo Phoebus gothe his waye

With face obscure withowt a clowde.
who dryues the daye to flyght,

And turnes to east? from whence doth now
his dusky hed the nyght

Unknown bryng forth? whēce fyl the poale
so many rownde about

Of daytyme starres? lo here beholde
my labour fyrst full stoute

Not in the lowest parte of heaven
the lyon shyneth bryght,

And fervently dothe rage with yre,
And byttes prepares to fyght.

Even now loe he some starre wyl take:
with mouthe full wyde to see

He thretnyng stands, and fyres out blowes
and mane up rustleth he

Shaking with necke. the harvest sadde
of shape, what ever thyng,

And what soever wynter collde
in frosen tyme doothe bryng,

He with one rage wyll overpasse,
of spryng tyme bull he wyll

Bothe seeke, and breake the neckes at once.
AMPHITRYON. What is this sodayne yll?

Thy cruell cowntnance whether sonne
Doste thou caste here and there?

And seeste with troubled daselde syght
false shape of heaven appere?

HER. The land is taemde, the swellyng seas
theyr surges dyd asswage,

The kyngdomes lowe of hell lykewyse
have felte and knowne my rage,

Yet heaven is free, a labour meete
for Hercules to prove.