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I as a prophecy receive; for God,

Nothing more certain, will not long defer
To vindicate the glory of his name
Against all competition, nor will long
Indure it doubtful whether God be Lord,
Or Dagon. But for thee what shall be done!
Thou must not in the mean while here forgot
Lie in this miferable loathsome plight
Neglected. I already have made way

To fome Philiftian lords, with whom to treat
About thy ransome: well they may by this
Have fatisfied their utmost of revenge



By pains and flaveries, worse than death inflicted 485 On thee, who now no more canft do them harm.

SAMS. Spare that propofal, Father, spare the trouble Of that folicitation; let me here,

As I deferve, pay on my punishment;

And expiate, if poffible, my crime,
Shameful garrulity. To have reveal'd


Secrets of men, the secrets of a friend,

How heinous had the fact been, how deserving

Contempt, and fcorn of all, to be excluded

All friendship, and avoided as a blab,


The mark of fool fet on his front!

But I God's counsel have not kept, his holy fecret

Prefumptuously have publish'd, impiously,

Weakly at least, and shamefully: a fin

That Gentiles in their parables condemn
To their abyfs and horrid pains confin'd.

MAN. Be penitent and for thy fault contrite,


But act not in thy own affliction, Son:
Repent the fin; but if the punishment
Thou can avoid, felf-prefervation bids;
Or th' execution leave to high disposal,
And let another hand, not thine, exact
Thy penal forfeit from thyself; perhaps
God will relent, and quit thee all his debt;
Who ever more approves and more accepts
(Beft pleas'd with humble' and filial fubmiffion)
Him who imploring mercy fues for life,
Than who felf-rigorous chooses death as due;
Which argues over-just, and self-displeas'd
For felf-offenfe, more than for God offended.
Reject not then what offer'd means; who knows
But God hath fet before
to return thee
Home to thy country and his facred house,
Where thou mayft bring thy offerings, to avert
His further ire, with prayers and vows renew'd?


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SAMS. His pardon I implore; but as for life, To what end should I seek it? When in strength All mortals I excell'd, and great in hopes With youthful courage and magnanimous thoughts Of birth from Heav'n foretold and high exploits, 525 Full of divine instinct, after fome proof

Of acts indeed heroic, far beyond

The fons of Anak, famous now and blaz'd,

Fearless of danger, like a petty God

I walk'd about admir'd of all and dreaded


On hoftile ground, none daring my affront.
Then fwoll'n with pride into the fnare I fell


Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains,
Soften'd with pleasure and voluptuous life;
At length to lay my head and hallow'd pledge
Of all my strength in the lascivious lap
Of a deceitful concubine, who fhore me
Like a tame wether, all my precious fleece,
Then turn'd me out ridiculous, defpoil'd,
Shav'n, and difarm'd among mine enemies.



CHO. Defire of wine and all delicious drinks, Which many a famous warrior overturns, Thou couldst reprefs, nor did the dancing ruby Sparkling, out-pour'd, the flavor, or the smell, Or tafte that chears the heart of Gods and men, 545 Allure thee from the cool cryftallin stream.


SAMS. Wherever fountain or fresh current flow'd Against the eastern ray, tranflucent, pure With touch ethereal of Heav'n's fiery rod, I drank, from the clear milky juice allaying Thirst, and refresh'd; nor envy'd them the grape Whose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes. CHO. O madness, to think use of ftrongeft wines And strongest drinks our chief fupport of health, When God with thefe forbidd'n made choice to rear His mighty champion, ftrong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook!

SAMS. But what avail'd this temp'rance, not comAgainst another object more enticing? What boots it at one gate to make defense,

And at another to let in the foe,

Effeminately vanquifh'd? by which means,



Now blind, dishearten'd, sham'd, dishonor'd, quell'd, To what can I be useful, wherein ferve

My nation, and the work from Heav'n impos'd, 565
But to fit idle on the houshold hearth,

A burd'nous drone; to vifitants a gaze,
Or pity'd object, these redundant locks
Robuftious to no purpose clustering down,

Vain monument of strength; till length of years 570
And fedentary numness craze my limbs

To a contemptible old-age obfcure?

Here rather let me drudge and earn my bread,

Till vermin or the draff of fervile food

Confume me, and oft-invoked death


Haften the welcome end of all my pains.

MAN. Wilt thou then ferve the Philiftines with that

Which was exprefly giv'n thee to annoy them?


Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle,


Inglorious, unemploy'd, with age outworn.
But God, who caus'd a fountain at thy prayer
From the dry ground to fpring, thy thirst t' allay
After the brunt of battel, can as easy


Caufe light again within thy eyes to spring,
Wherewith to ferve him better than thou haft;
And I perfuade me fo; why else this strength
Miraculous yet remaining in those locks?
His might continues in thee not for nought,
Nor fhall his wondrous gifts be fruftrate thus.
SAMS. All otherwife to me my thoughts portend,
That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light,
Nor th' other light of life continue long,


But yield to double darkness nigh at hand:
So much I feel my genial fpirits droop,
My hopes all flat, nature within me seems
In all her functions weary of herself,
My race of glory run, and race of shame,
And I fhall fhortly be with them that rest.



MAN. Believe not these suggestions, which proceed From anguish of the mind and humors black, That mingle with thy fancy. I however Must not omit a father's timely care

To profecute the means of thy deliverance

By ranfome, or how elfe: mean while be calm,
And healing words from these thy friends admit. 605
SAMS. O that torment should not be confin'd

To the body's wounds and fores,

With maladies innumerable

In heart, head, breast and reins;

But muft fecret paffage find

To th' inmoft mind,

There exercise all his fierce accidents,
And on her pureft spirits prey,

As on entrails, joints, and limbs,


With answerable pains, but more intense,


Though void of corporal sense.

My griefs not only pain me

As a lingring disease,

But finding no redress, ferment and rage,
Nor lefs than wounds immedicable


Rankle, and fester, and gangrene,

To black mortification.


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