The Discourse to the Greeks

Hercules, renowned for his three nights and celebrated by poets for his successful labors, was the son of Jupiter. He defeated the lion and destroyed the many-headed hydra, killed the fierce and powerful boar, and managed to slay the swift man-eating birds. He brought up from Hades the three-headed dog, thoroughly cleansed the huge Augean building of its dung, and killed the bulls and the stag whose nostrils breathed fire. He plucked the golden fruit from the tree and killed the poisonous serpent.

For reasons that are not lawful to speak, he killed Achelous and the guest-slaying Busiris. He crossed the mountains to get water that, according to the story, could speak. Despite being capable of such great and numerous deeds, how childishly he was delighted to be stunned by the cymbals of the satyrs, overcome by the love of woman, and struck on the hips by the laughing Lyda! In the end, unable to remove the tunic of Nessus, he kindled his own funeral pyre and died.

Let Vulcan abandon his envy and not be jealous if he is disliked for being old and club-footed, while Mars is loved for being young and handsome.

Therefore, Greeks, since your gods are found guilty of intemperance and your heroes are shown to be effeminate, as the histories on which your dramas are based declare—such as the curse of Atreus, the bed of Thyestes, and the corruption in the house of Pelops, as well as Danaus killing out of hatred and making Ægyptus childless in his rage, and the Furies spreading the Thyestean banquet.

Procne still flies around lamenting to this day, and her sister from Athens cries out with her tongue cut out. Why is there even a need to speak of the torment of Œdipus, the murder of Laius, the marriage to his mother, and the mutual slaughter of those who were both his brothers and his sons?