the Iayle â—his neglected Schoole turnes speedy tayle â—â—on his tedious booke so ill befriended â—â—fore his Masters Iie be full ended So thanklesse Satan full of winged haste Thinking all time not spent in Mischiefe waste Departs with speed lesse patient to forbeare The patient Iob then patient Iob to beare Forth from the furnace of his Nostrell flies A sulpherous vapour which by the envious eyes Of this foule Fiend inflam'd possest the faire And sweet complexion of th' Abused Ayre With Pestilence and having power so farre Tooke the advantage of his worset Starre Smote him with Vlcers such as once befell Th'Egyptian Wizzards Vlcers hot and fell Which like a searching Tetter uncorrected Left no part of his body unaffected From head to foote no empty place was found That could b'afflicted with another wound So noysome was the nature of his griefe That left by friends and wife that should be chiefe Assister he poore he alone remain'd Groveling in Ashes being himselfe constrain'd With pot-sheards to scrape off those rip'ned cores Which dogs disdain'd to licke from out his sores Which when his wife beheld adust and keene Her passion waxt made strong with scorn spleen Like as the Winds imprison'd in the earth And barr'd the passage to their naturall birth Grow fierce and nilling to be longer pent Break in an Earthquake shake the world and vent So brake shee forth so forth her fury brake Till now pent in with shame and thus she spake Fond Saint thine Innocence findes timely speed A foolish Saint receives a Saintly meed Is this the just mans recompence Or hath Heaven no requitall for thy painfull Faith 〈◊〉 then this What haue thy zealous Qualmes â—â—â—â—ious Fastings and thy hopefull Almes Thy private groanes and often bended knees No other end no other thankes but these 〈◊〉 man submit thee to a kinder fate 〈◊〉 to be righteous at so deare a rate 'T is Heaven not Fortune that thy weale debarres Câ—â—se Heaven then and not thy wayward flarres 'T is God that plagues thee God not knowing why Câ—â—se then that God revenge thy wrongs and dye 〈◊〉 then reply'd God loves where â—e chasâ—iz'd Thou speakest like a foole and ill adviz'd â—â—â—gh we to licke the sweet and shall we lowre If â—e be pleas'd to send a little sowre 〈◊〉 I so weake one blast or two should chill me I 'le trust my Maker though my Maker kill me When these sad tidings fill'd those itching eares Of Earths black babling daughter she that heares And vents alike both Truth and Forgeries And utters often cheaper then she buyes She spred the pinions of her nimble wings Advanc'â— her Trumpet and away she springs And fils the whispering Ayre which soone possest The spacious borders of th'enquiring East Vpon the summon of such solemne Newes Whose truth malignant Fame could not abuse His wofull friends came to him to the end To comfort and bewaile their wretched friend But when they came farre off they did not know Whether it were the selfe same friend or no Brim-fill'd with briny woe they wept and tore â—â—express their grief the garments that they wore Seven dayes and nights they sate upon the ground But spake not for his sorrowes did abound Medit. 5. SAy is not Satan justly stiled than A Tempter and an enemy to Man What could he more His wish would not extend To death lest his assaults with death should end Then what he did what could he further doe His Hand hath seiz'd both goods and body too The hopefull Issue of a holy straine In such a dearth of holinesse is slaine What hath the Lazar left him but his griefe And what might best been spar'd his foolish wife Cold mischief bin more hard though more in kind To nip the flowers and leave the weeds behind Woman was made a Helper by Creation A Helper not alone for Propagation Or fond Delight but sweet Society Which Man alone should want and to supply Comforts to him for whom her Sex was made That each may ioy in eithers needfull ayde But fairest Angels had the foulest fall And best things once abus'd prove worst of all Else had not Satan beene so foule a Fiend Else had not Woman prov'd so false a Friend Ev'n as the treachrous Fowler to entice His silly winged Prey doth first devise To make a Bird his stale at whose false call Others may chance into the selfe-same thrall Even so that crafty snarer of Mankind Finding mans righteous Palate not enclin'd To taste the sweetnesse of his gilded baites Makes a collaterall Suâ—e and slily waites Vpon the weakenesse of some bosome friend From whose enticement he expects his end Ah righteous Iob what crosse was left unknowne What griefe may be describ'd but was thine owne Is this a just mans case What doth befall To one man may as well betide to all The worst I 'le looke for that I can project If better come 't is more then I expect If otherwise I 'm arm'd with Preparation No sorrow's sudden to an expectation Lord to thy Wisedome I submit my Will I will be thankfull send me good or ill If good my present State will passe the sweeter If ill my Crowne of glory shall be greater THE ARGVMENT Orewhelm'd with griefe Iob breaketh forth Into impatience Bans his birth Professes that his heart did doubt And feare what since hath fallen out Sect. 6. WOrn bare with griefe the patient Iob betrai'd His seven-daies silence curst his day said O that my Day of birth had never bin Nâ—â— yet the Night which I was brought forth in Be it not numbred for a Day let Light Not make a difference 'twixt it and Night Let gloomy Shades then Death more sable passe Vpon it to declare how fatall 't was Let Clouds ore-cast it and as hatefull make it As lifes to him whom Tortures bid forsake it From her next day let that blacke Night be cut Nor in the reckning of the Months be put Let Desolation fill it all night long In it be never heard a Bridall song Let all sad Mourners that doe curse the light When light 's drawne in begin to curse this night Her evening Twilight let foule darknesse staine And may her midnight expect light in vaine Nor let her infanâ— Day but newly borne Suffer't to see the Eye-lids of the morne Because my Mothers Wombe it would not clâ—ze Which gave me passage to endure these Woes Why dyed I not in my Conception rather Or why was not my Birth and death together Why did the Midwife take me on her knees Why did I sucke to feele such griefes as these Then had this body never beene opprest I had injoy'd th' eternall sleepe of rest With Kings and mighty Monarchs that lie crown'd With stately Monuments poore I had found A place of Rest had borne as great a sway Had beene as happy and as rich as they Why was not I as an abortive birth The â—e're had knowne the horrors of the earth The silent
and the painfull prize Of their sweet labour in the hollow Chest Of the dead Lyon whose unbowell'd brest Became their plenteous storehouse where they laid The blest encrease of their laborious Trade The fleshly Hive was fill'd with curious Combes Within whose dainty waxe-divided roomes Were shops of honey whose delicious taste Did sweetly recompence th'adjourned haste Of lingring Samson who does now repay The time he borrow'd from his better way And with renewed speed and pleasure flies Where all his soule-delighting treasure lies He goes to Timnah where his heart doth finde A greater sweetnesse than he left behinde His hasty hands invites her gladder eyes To see and lips to taste that obvious prize His interrupted stay had lately tooke And as shee tasted his fixt eyes would looke Vpon her varnisht lips and there discover A sweeter sweetnesse to content a Lover And now the busie Virgins are preparing Their costly Iewels for the next dayes wearing Each lappe is sill'd with Flowers to compose The nuptiall Girland for the Brides faire browes The costâ—neglecting Cookes have now encreast Their pastry dainties to adorne the feast Each willing hand is labring to provide The needfull ornaments to deck the Bride But now the crafty Philistins for feare Lest Samsons strength which startled every eare With dread and wâ—nder under that pretence Should gaine the meanes to offer violence And through the shew of nuptiall devotion Should take advantages to breed commotion Or lest his popular power by coaction Or faire entreats may gather to his faction Some loose and discontented men of theirs And so betray them to supected feares They therefore to prevent ensuing harmes Gave strict command that thirty men of armes Vnder the maâ—ke of Bridemen should attend Vntill the nuptiall ceremonies end Meditat. 9. HOw high unutterable how profound Whose depth the line of knowledge cannot sound Are the deerces of the Eternall God! How secret are his wayes and how untrod By mans conceipt so deeply charg'd with doubt How are his Counsels past our finding out O how unscrutable are his designes How deepe and how unsearchable are the Mines Of his abundant Wisdome how obscure And his eternall Iudgements and how sure Lists he to strike the very Stones shall flie From their unmov'd Foundations and destroy Lists he to punish Things that have no sense Shall vindicate his Quarrell on th' Offence Lists he to send a plague The winters heate And summers damp shall make his will compleate Lists he to send the Sword Occasion brings New Iealousies betwixt the hearts of Kings Wills he a famine Heaven shall turne to brasse And earth to Iron till it come to passe Both stocks and stones and plants and beasts fulfil The secret Counsell of his sacred will Man onely wretched Man is disagreeing To doe that thing for which he had his being Samson must downe to Timnah in the way Must meet a Lyon whom his hands must slay The Lyons putrid Carkas must enclose A swarme of Bees and from the Bees arose A Riddle and that Riddle must be read And by the reading Choller must be bred And that must bring to passe Gods just designes Vpon the death of the false Philistines Behold the progresse and the royall Gests Of Heavens high vengeance how it never rests Till by appointed courses it fulfill The secret pleasure of his sacred will Great Savior of the world Thou Lambe of Sion That hides our sinnes That art the wounded Lyon O in thy dying body we have found A world of hony whence we may propound Such sacred Riddles as shall underneath Our feet subdue the power of Hell and Death Such Mysteries as none but he that plough'd With thy sweet Hayfer's able to uncloud Such sacred Mysteries whose eternall praise Shall make both Angels and Archangels raise Their louder voyces and in triumph sing All Glory and Honour to our highest King And to the Lambe that sits upon the throne Worthy of power and praise is he alone Whose glory hath advanc'd our key of mirth Glory to God on high and peace on Earth THE ARGVMENT The Bridegroome at his nuptiall Feast to the Philistians doth propound A Riddle which they all addrest themselves in counsell to expound Sect. 10. NOw when the glory of the next dayes light Had chas'd the shadowes of the tedious night 〈◊〉 coupling Hymen with his nuptiall bands 〈◊〉 gâ—lden Fetters had conjoyn'd their hands 〈◊〉 jolly welcome had to every Guest â—â—pos'd the bounty of the mariage Feast 〈◊〉 now appeased stomacks did enlarge 〈◊〉 captive tongues with power to discharge 〈◊〉 quit their Table-duty and disburse 〈◊〉 store of enterchangeable discourse 〈◊〉 â—â—genious Bridegroome turn'd his rolling eyes 〈◊〉 his guard of Bridemen and applies â—â—â—peech to them And whil'st that every man 〈◊〉 his attentive eare he thus began My tâ—ngue's in labour and my thoughts abound 〈◊〉 a doubtfull Riddle to propound 〈◊〉 if your joyned wisdomes can discover 〈◊〉 our seven dayes feasting be past over 〈◊〉 thirty Sheets and thirty new supplies â—â—â—â—â—â—ment shall be your deserved prize 〈◊〉 be seven dayes feast shall be dissolv'd 〈◊〉 darkned Riddle be resolv'd Ye shall be all engaged to resigne The like to me the vict'rie being mine So said the Bridemen whose exchanged eyes Found secret hopes of conquest thus replies Propound thy Riddle Let thy tongue dispatch Her cloudy errand We accept the match With that the hopefull Challenger convai'd His Riddle to their hearkning eares and said The Riddle Our food in plenty doth proceed from him that us'd to eate And he whose custome was to feed does now afford as meate A thing that I did lately meet as I did passe along Afforded me a dainty sweet yet was both sharpe and strong The doubtful Riddle being thus propounded They muse the more they mus'd the more coÌ„founded One rounds his whispring neighbour in the eare Whose lab'ring lips deny him leave to heare Another trusting rather to his owne Conceit sits musing by himselfe alone Here two are closely whispring till a third Comes in nor to the purpose speakes a word There sits two more and they cannot agree How rich the clothes how fine the Sheets must be Yonder stands one that musing smiles no doubt But he is neere it if not found it out To whom another rudely rushes in And puts him quite beside his thought agin 〈◊〉 three are Whispring and a fourths intrusion Spoiles all and puts them all into confusion â—â—re sits another in a Chaire so deepe 〈◊〉 thought that he is nodding fast asleepe The more their busie fancie doe endever The more they erre Now farther off than ever 〈◊〉 when their wits spur'd on with sharpe desire Had lost their breath and now began to tire They ceas'd to tempt conceit beyond her strength And weary of their thoughts their thoughts at length Present a new exploit Craft must supply Defects of wit Their hopes must now rely Vpon the frailty of the tender Bride She must be mov'd Perswasions may attaine If not
and that on t' other Seed Moves as they move and stayes when as they stay And seemes delighted in their infant-play Yet fearing danger with a busie eye Lookes here and there if ought she can espy Which unawares might snatch a booty from her Eyes all that passe and watches every commer Even so th' affection of this tender Syre B'ing made more fervent with the selfe-same â—â—re Of dearest love which flamed in their brests Preserved as by fuell in those Feasts Was ravisht in the height of joyes to see His happy Childrens ten-fold unity As was his joy such was his holy feare Lest he that plants his Engines every where Baited with golden Sinnes and re-insnares The soule of Man turning his Wheat to Tares Should season Error with the taste of Truth And tempt the frailty of their tender youth No sooner therefore had the dappled skie Opened the Twilight of her waking eye And in her breaking Light had promis'd day But up he rose his holy hands did Iay Vpon the sacred Altar one by one An early Sacrifice for every Sonne For who can tell said he my Sonnes perchance Hâ—ve slipt some sinne which neither Ignorance Pleaded nor want of heed nor youth can cure Sin steales unseene when men sleep most secure Meditat. 1. WAnt is the badge of poverty Then he That wanteth most is the most poore say we The wretch that hunger drives from door to door Aiming at present Almes desires no more The toiling Swaine that hath with pleasing trouble Cockt a small fortune would that fortune double Which dearly bought with slav'ry then alas Hee would be deem'd a Man that 's well to passe Which got his mind 's now tickled with an itch But to deserve that glorious stile of Rich. That done h'enjoyes the crowne of all his labour Could he but once out-nose his right-hand-neighbourâ— Lives he at quiet now Now he begins To wish that Vs'ry were the least of sinnes But great or small he tries and sweet's the trouble And for its sake he wishes all things double Thus wishing still his wishes never cease But as his Wealth his Wishes still encrease Wishes proceed from want The richest then Most wishing want most and are poorest men If he be poore that wanteth much how poore Is he that hath too much and yet wants more Thrice happy he to whom the bounty of heaven Sufficient with a sparing hand hath given 'T is Grace not Gold makes great sever but which The Rich man is but poore the Poore man rich The fairest Crop of either Grasse or Graine Is not for use undew'd with timely raine The wealth of Croesus were it to be given Were not thank-worthy if unblest by Heaven Even as faire Phaebe in Diameter Earth interpos'd betwixt the Sunne and her Suffers Eclips and is disrobed quite During the time of all her borrowed Light So Riches which fond Mortals so embrace If not enlightned with the Beames of Grace B'ing interposed with too grosse a Care They lye obscured and no riches are My stint of Wealth lyes not in my expressing With Iacobs Store Lord give me Iacobs Blessing Or if at night thou grant me Lazars Boone Let Dives Dogs licks all my sores at noone Lord pare my wealth by my Capacity Lest I with it or it suit not with mee This humbly doe I sue for at thy hand Enough and not too much for my command Lord what thou lend'st shall serve but in the place Of reckoning Counters to summe up thy Grace THE ARGVMENT Satan appeares and then professes Himselfe mans Enemy confesses Gods love to Iob malignes his Faith Gaines power over all he hath Sect. 2. VPon a time when heaveÌ„s sweet quire of Saints Whose everlasting Hallelujah chaunts The highest praise of their celestiall King Before their Lord did the presentment bring Of th' execution of his sacred Will Commited to their function to fulfill Satan came too that Satan which betraid The soule of man to Deaths eternall shade Satan came too and in the midst he stands Like to a Vulture 'mongst a herd of Swans Said then th' Eternall From what quarter now Hath businesse brough thee Satan whence com'st thou The Lord of Heaven said th' Infernall since Thou hast intitled me the Worlds great Prince I hâ—ve beene practising mine old profession And come from compassing my large Possession Tempting thy sonnes and like a roaring Lion Seeking my prey disturbe the peace of Sion I come from sâ—wing Tares among thy Wheat To him that shall dissemble Peters seat I have beene plotting how to prompt the death Of Christian Princes and the bribed breath Of cheapned Iustice hath my fire inflam'd With spirit of boldnesse for a while unsham'd I come from planting strife and sterne debate 'Twixt private man and man 'twixt State and State Subverting Truth with all the power I can Accusing Man to God and God to Man I daily sâ—w fresh Schismes among thy Saints I buffet them and laugh at their complaints The Earth is my Dominion Hell 's my Home I round the World and so from thence I come Said then th' Eternall True thou hast not fail'd Of what thou say'st thy spirit hath prevail'd To vexe my little Flocke Thou hast beene bold To make them stray a little from their Fold Bâ—t say In all thy hard Adventures hath Thine eye observed Iob my Servants faith Hath open force or secret fraud beset His Bulwarkes so impregnable as yet And hast thou without envy yet beheld How that the World his second cannot yeeld Hast thou not found that he 's of upright will Iust fearing God â—schewing what is ill True Lord reply'd the Fiend thy Champion â—â—th A strong and fervent yet a crafty Faith A forced love needs no such great applause He loves but ill that loves not for a cause Hast thou not heap'd his Garners with excesse Inricht his Pastures Doth not he possesse All that he hath or can demand from Thee His Coffers fill'd his Land stock'd plenteouâ—â—y Hath not thy love surrounded him about â—And â—edg'd him in to fence my practice out But small 's the triall of a Faith in this â—f thou suppâ—rt him t is thy strength not hisâ— Can then my power that stands by thy permission Encounter where Thou mak'st an Opposition Stretch forth thy Hand and smite 〈◊〉 what he hath And prove thou then the temper of his Faith Cease cock'ring his fond humour veile thy Grace No doubt but he 'll blaspheme thee to thy fâ—â—c Lâ—e said th' Eternall to thy cursed hand I â—ere commit his mighty Stocke his Land His hopefull Issue and Wealth though nere so much Himselfe alone thou shalt forbeare to touch Medita 2. SAâ—an beg'd once and found his pray'rs reward We often beg yet oft returne unheard If granting be th' effect of love then we Conclude our selves to be lesse lov'd than hee True Satan beg'd and beg'd his shame no lesse 'T was granted shall we envie his successe We beg and our request 's perchance not granted
God knew perhaps it were worse had than wanted Can God and Belial both joyne in one will The one to aske the other to fulfill Sooner shall Stygian darknesse blend with light The Frost with Fier sooner day with Night True God and Satan will'd the selfe-same Will But God intended Good and Satan Ill That Will produc'd a severall conclusion He aim'd at Mans and God at his confusion He that drew Light from out the depth of Shade And made of Nothing whatsoe're he made â—an out of seeming Evill bring good Events God worketh Good though by ill Instruments As in a Clocke one motion doth convay And carry divers wheeles a severall way Yet altogether by the great wheeles force Direct the hand unto his proper course Even so that sacred Will although it use Meanes seeming contrary yet all conduce To one effect and in a free consent They bring to passe heavens high decreed intent Takes God delight in humane weaknesse then What glory reapes he from afflicted men The Spirit gone can Flesh and Blood indure God burnes his Gold to make his Gold more pure Even as a Nurse whose childe 's imperfect pace Can hardly leade his foote from place to place Leaves her fond kissing sets him downe to goe Nor does uphold him for a step or two But when she findes that he begins to fall She holds him up and kisses him withall So God from man sometimes withdrawes his hand A while to teach his Infant faith to stand But when he sees his feeble strength begin To faile he gently takes him up againe Lord I 'm a childe so guide my paces than That I may learne to walke an upright man So shield my Faith that I may never doubt thee For I shall fall if e're I walke without thee THE ARGVMENT The frighted Mâ—ssengers tell Iob His foure-fold losse He rends his Roâ—e Submits him to his Makers trust Whom he concludeth to be just Sect. 3. VPon that very day when all the rest Were frollicke at their elder Brothers feaâ—t A breathlesse man prickt on with winged feare With staring eyes distracted here and there Like kindled Exhalations in the Aire At midnight glowing his stiffe-bolting haire Not much unlike the pennes of Porcupines Crossing his armes and making wofull signes Purboyl'd in sweat shaking his fearfull head That often lookt behinde him as he fled He ran to Iob still ne'rethelesse afraid His broken blast breath'd forth these words said Alas deare Lord the whiles thy servants ply'd Thy painfull Plough and whilest on every side Thy Asses fed about us as we wrought There sallyed forth on us suspecting nought Nor ought intending but our cheerfull paine A rout of rude Sabaeans with their Traine Armed with death and deafe to all our Cries Which with strong Hand did in an houre suprize All that thou hadst and whilest we strove in vaine To guard them their impartiall hands have slaine Thy faithfull Servants with their thirâ—ty Sword I onely scap't to bring this wofull word No sooner had he clos'd his lips but see Another comes as much agast as he A â—lash of fire said he new falne from heaven Hath all thy servants of their lives bereaven And burnt thy Sheâ—pe I I alone am he That 's left unslaine to bring the newes to thee This Tale not fully told a third ensues Whose lips in labour with more heavy Newes Brake thus The forces of a triple Band Brought from the fiâ—rce Caldaeans with strong haÌ„d Hath seiz'd thy Camels murther'd with the sword Thy servants all but me that brings thee word Before the aire had cool'd his hasty breath Rusht in a fourth with visage pale as Death The while said he thy children all were sharing Mirth at a feast of thy first Sonnes preparing Arose a Winde whose errand had more hast Than happy speed which with a full-mouth blast Hath smote the house which hath thy children reft Of all their lives and thou art childlesse left Thy children all are slaine all slaine together I onely scap't to bring the tidings hither So said Behold the man whose wealth did flow Like to a Spring-tide one bare houre agoe With the unpattern'd height of fortunes blest Above the greatest Dweller in the East He that was Syre of many sonnes but now Lord of much people and while-e're could show Such Herds of Cattell He whose fleecy stocke Of Sheepe could boast seven thousand in a flocke See how he lies of all his wealth dispoil'd He now hath neither Servant Sheepe nor Childe Like a poore man arose the patient Iob Stun'd with the newes and rent his purple Robe Shaved the haire from off his wofull head And prostrate on the floore he worshipped Naked ah Poore and naked did I come Fâ—rth from the closet of my mothers wombe And shall returne alas the very same To th' earth as poore and naked as I came God gives and takes and why should He not have A priviledge to take those things he gave We men mistake our Tenure oft for He Lends us at will what we miscall as Free He reassumes his owne takes but the same He lent a while Thrice blessed be his Name In all this passage Iob in heart nor Tongue Thought God unjust or charg'd his hand with wrong Medita 3. THe proudest pitch of that victorious spirit Was but to win the World whereby t'inheritâ— The ayrie purchase of a transitory And glozing Title of an ages Glory Would'st thou by conquest win more fame thaÌ„ He Subdue thy selfe thy selfe's a world to thee Earth's but a Ball that Heaven hath quilted o're With wealth and Honour banded on the floore Of fickle Fortunes false and slippery Court Sent for a Toy to make us Children sport Mans satiate spirits with fresh delights supplying To still the Fondlings of the world from crying And he whose merit mounts to such a Ioy Gaines but the Honour of a mighty Toy But would'st thou conquer have thy conquest crown'd By hands of Seraphins trimph'd with the sound Of heavens loud Trumpet warbled by the shrill Celestiall quire recorded with a quill Pluckt from the Pinion of an Angels wing Confirm'd with joy by heavens Eternall King Conquer thy selfe thy rebell thoughts repell And chase those false affections that rebell Hath Heaven dispoil'd what his full hand had giveÌ„ thee Nipt thy succeeding Blossomes or bereaven thee Of thy deare latest hope thy bosome Friend Doth sad Despaire deny these griefes an end Despair's a whispring Rebell that within thee Bribes all thy Field and sets thy selfe agin thee Make keene thy Faith and with thy force let flee If thou not conquer him hee 'll conquer thee Advance thy Shield of Patience to thy head And wheÌ„ griefe strikes t will strike the striker deadâ— The patient man in sorrow spies reliefe And by the taile he couples Ioy with Griefe In adverse fortunes be thou strong and stout And bravely win thy selfe Heaven holds not out His Bow for ever bent The disposition Of noblest spirits doth by
feares 'T is well But they that doe Attempt to ruine me will ransacke you First you shall firmely engage your plighted trâ—th By the acceptance of a sacred â—ath That when I shall be pris'ner to your bands I may not suffer violence by your hands With that they drawing nearer to him laid Their hands beneath his brawny thigh and said Then let the God of Iacob cease to blesse The tribe of Iudah with a faire successe In ought they put their cursed hand unto And raze their seed If we attempt to doe Bound Samson violence And if this curse Be not sufficient heaven contrive a worse With that the willing prisoner joyn'd his hands To he subjected to their stronger bands With treble twisted cords that never tried The twitch of strength their busie fingers tied His sinewy wrists which being often wound About his beating pulse they brought him bound To the forefront of the Philistian band And left him captive in their cursed hand Meditat. 17. O What a pearle is hidden in this field Whose orient luster and perfections yeeld So great a treasure that the Easterne Kings With all the wealth their colder Climate brings Nere saw the like It is a pearle whose glory Is the diviner subject of a story Pend by an Angels quill not understood By the too dull conceit of flesh and bloud Vnkinde Iudeans what have you presented Before your eyes O what have you attented He that was borne on purpose to release His life for yours to bring your Nation peace To turne your mournings into joyfull Songs To fight your Battells to revenge your wrongs Even him alas your cursed hands have made This day your prisoner Him have you betraid To death O he whose snowy arme had power To crush you all to nothing and to shower Downe strokes like thunderbolts whose blasting breath Might in a moment puft you all to death And made ye fall before his frowning Brow See how he goes away betraid by you Thou great Redeemer of the world whose bloud Hath power to save more worlds than Noahs floud Destroyed bodies thou O thou that art The Samson of our soules How can the heart Of man give thankes enough that does not know How much his death-redeemed soule does owe To thy deare merits We can apprehend No more than flesh and bloud does recommend To our confined thoughts Alas we can Conceive thy love but as the love of man We cannot tell the horror of that paine Thou bought us from nor can our hearts attaine Those joyes that thou hast purchas'd in our name Nor yet the price thou paidst our thoughts are laÌ„e And craz'd Alas things mortall have no might No meanes to comprehend an Infinite We can behold thee cradled in a Manger In a poore Stable We can see the danger The Tetrarch's fury made thee subject to We can conceive thy poverty We know Thy blessed hands that might bin freed were bouÌ„d We know alas thy bleeding browes were crown'd With pricking thorne Thy body torne with whips Thy palmes impeirc'd with ragged nailes Thy lips Saluted with a Traitors kisse Thy browes Sweating forth bloud Thy oft repeated blowes Thy fastning to the crosse Thy shamefull death These outward tortures all come underneath Our dull conceits But what thy blessed soule That bore the burden of our guilt and Scroule Of all our sinnes and horrid paines of Hell O what that soule endur'd what soule can tell THE ARGVMENT He breakes their bands And with a bone A thousand Philistians he slue Hee thirsted fainted made his moane To Heaven He drinkes his spirits renew Sect. 18. THus when the glad Philistians had obtain'd The summe of all their hopes they entertain'd The welcome pris'ner with a greater noise Of triumph than the greatnesse of their joyes Required Some with sudden death would greet The new come Guest whilst others more discreet With lingring paines and tortures more exact Would force him to discover in the Fact Who his Abettors were others gainsaid That course for feare a rescue may be made â—ome cry ' T is fittest that th' Offender bleed 〈◊〉 where his cursed hands had done the deed Others cryed No where Fortune hath consign'd him Wee 'le kill him Best to kill him where we finde him Thus variously they spent their doubtfull breath At last they all agreed on sudden death There 's no contention now but onely who Shall strike the first or give the speeding blow Have ye beheld a single thred of flax Touch'd by the fire how the fire crackes With ease and parts the slender twine in sunder Even so as the first arme began to thunder Vpon the Prisners life he burst the bands From his strong wrists freed his loosned hands He stoop'd from off the bloud-expecting grasse He snatcht the crooked jaw-bone of an Asse Wherewith his fury dealt such downe-right blowes So oft redoubled that it overthrowes Man after man And being ring'd about With the distracted and amazed rout Of rude Philistians turn'd his body round And in a circle dings them to the ground Each blow had proofe for where the jaw-bone mist The furious Champion wounded with his fist Betwixt them both his fury did uncase A thousand soules which in that fatall place Had left their ruin'd carkeises to feast The flesh-devouring fowle and rav'nous beast With that the Conquerour that now had fed And surfeited his eye upon the dead His hand had slaine sate downe and having flung His purple weapon by triumpht and sung SAmson rejoyce Be fill'd with mirth Let all Iudea know And tell the Princes of the earth How strong an arme hast thou How has thy dead enricht the land And purpled ore the grasse That hadst no weapon in thy hand But the jaw-bone of an Asse How does thy strength and high renowne The glory of men surpasse Thine arme has strucke a thousand downe With the jaw-bone of an Asse Let Samsons glorious name endure Till Time shall render One Whose greater glory shall obscure The glory thou hast wone His song being ended rising from the place Whereon he lay he turn'd his ruthlesse face Vpon those heapes his direfull hand had made And op'ning of his thirsty lips he said Great God of conquest thou by whose command The heart received courage and this hand Strength to revenge thy quarrels and fulfill The secret motion of thy sacred will That shall thy Champion perish now with thirst Thou knowst I have done nothing but what first Was warranted by thy command 'T was thou That gave my spirit boldnesse and my brow A resolution 'T is mine arme did doe No more than what thou didst enjoyne me to And shall I die for thirst O thou that sav'd Me from the Lyons rage that would have rav'd Vpon my life by whom I have subdu'd Thy cursed enemies and have imbru'd My heaven-commanded hands in a spring-tyde Of guilty bloud Lord shall I be denyde A draught of cooling water to allay The tyranny of my thirst I that this day Have
ayre-diuiding plumes She struggles often and she oft presumes To take the sanctuary of the open fields But finding that her hopes are vaine she yeelds Even so poore Samson frighted at the sound That rows'd him from his rest forsook the ground Perceiving the Philistians there at hand To take him pris'ner he began to stand Vpon his wonted Guard His threatning breath Brings forth the prologue to their following death He rowz'd himselfe and like a Lyon shooke His drowzy limmes and with a cloudy looke Fore-telling boystrous and tempestuous weather Defi'd each one defi'd them all together Now when he came to grapple he upheav'd His mighty hand but now alas bereav'd Of wonted power that confounding arme That could no lesse then murther did no harme Blow was exchang'd for blow wound for wound He that of late disdained to give ground Flies backe apace who lately stain'd the field With conquer'd blood does now begin to yeeld He that of late brake twisted Ropes in twaine Is bound with Packthred He that did disdaine To feare the power of an Armed Band Can now walke prisoner in a single hand Thus have the trecherous Philistines betray'd Poore captive Samson Samson now obay'd Those glowing eyes that whirled death about Where ere they view'd their cursed hands put out They led him pris'ner and convai'd him downe 〈◊〉 strong-wall'd d' Azza that Philistiâ—â— towne Those gates his shoulders lately bore away â—â—ere in the common Prison did they lay â—â—stressed Samson who obtain'd no meate 〈◊〉 what he purchas'd with his painfull sweate 〈◊〉 every day they urg'd him to fulfill 〈◊〉 twelve howres taske at the laborious Mill 〈◊〉 when his wasted strength began to tyre â—â—ey'd quicken his bare sides with whips of Wire â—â—ll'd was the towne with Ioy and Triumph All â—rom the high-Prince to th' Cobbler on the stall â—ept holy-day whilest every voice became â—oarse as the Trumpe of newes-divulging fame 〈◊〉 tongues were fill'd with shouts And every eare â—â—as growne impatient of the whisperer 〈◊〉 generall was their Triumph their Applause That children shouted ere they knew a cause The better sort betooke them to their knees Dagon must worship'd be Dagon that frees â—oth Sea and Land Dagon that did subdue 〈◊〉 common â—oe Dagon must have his due Dagon must have his praise must have his prize Dagon must have his holy Sacrifice Dagon has brought to our victorious hand â—roud Samson Dagon has redeem'd our land 〈◊〉 call to Dagon and our Dagon heares 〈◊〉 groanes are 〈◊〉 to holy Dagons eares To Dagon all renowne and Glory be Where is there such another God as Hee Medita 22. HOw is our story chang'd O more then strange Effects of so small time O sudden change Is this that holy Nazarite for whom Heaven shew'd a Miracle on the barren wombe Is this that holy Thing against whose Birth Angels must quit their thrones and visit Earth Is this that blessed Infant that began To grow in favour so with God and man What is this he who strengthn'd by heav'ns hand Was borne a Champion to redeeme the Land Is this the man whose courage did contest With a fierce Lyon grapling brest to brest And in a twinkling tore him quite in sunder Is this that Conquerour whose Arme did thunder Vpon the men of Askalon the power Of whose bent fist slew thirty in an hower Is this that daring Conquerour whose hand Thrasht the proud Philistines in their wasted land And was this He that with the helpe of none Destroy'd a thousand with a silly Bone Or He whose wrists being bound together did Break Cords like flax and double Ropes like thrid Is this the man whose hands unhing'd those Gates And bare them thence with pillars barrs Grates And is he turn'd a Mill-horse now and blinde Must this great Conquerour be forc'd to grinde For bread and water Must this Heroe spend His latter times in drudgery Must he end His weary dayes in darknesse Must his hyer Be knotted cords and torturing whips of wyer â—â—ere heaven withdraws the creaturs power shakes 〈◊〉 miserie 's wanting there where God forsakes 〈◊〉 Samson not abus'd his borrow'd power 〈◊〉 had still remain'd a Conquerour 〈◊〉 Philistins did act his part No doubt 〈◊〉 eyes offended and they pluck'd them out 〈◊〉 will be just He punishes a sin 〈◊〉 in the member that he findes it in â—â—en faithlesse Zacharias did become 〈◊〉 curious his lips were strucken dumbe 〈◊〉 whose lustfull view did overprize â—â—lawfull beautie's punisht in his eyes 〈◊〉 flaming eyes seduc'd his wanton minde 〈◊〉 act a sinne Those eyes are stricken blinde 〈◊〉 beauty he invaded did invade him 〈◊〉 that faire tong that blest him so betraid him 〈◊〉 strength intemperate lust imploy'd so ill 〈◊〉 a dâ—iving the laborious Mill 〈◊〉 naked sides so pleas'd with lusts desire 〈◊〉 now as naked lasht with whips of wire Lord shouldst thou punish every part in me 〈◊〉 does offend what member would be free 〈◊〉 member acts his part They never lin 〈◊〉 they joyne and make a Body ' of fin 〈◊〉 sinne my burthen Let it never please me 〈◊〉 thou hast promis'd when I come to ease me THE ARGVMENT They make a feast And then to crowne Their mirth blind Samson is brought thither He pulls the mighty pillers downe The Building falls All slaine together Sect. 23. THus when the vulgar Triumph which does last But seldome longer then the newes was past And Dagons holy Altars had surecast To breath their idle fumes they call'd a feast A common Feast whose bounty did bewray A common joy to gratulate the day Whereto the Princes vnder whose command Each province was in their diuided land Whereto the Lords Leiutenants and all those To whom the supreme Rulers did repose An under-trust whereto the better sort Of gentry and of Commons did resort With mirth and jolly triumph to allay Their sorrowes and to solemnize the day Into the common Hall they come The Hall Was large and faire Her arched roofe was all Builded with massie stone and over-lai'd With pond'rous Lead Two sturdy Pillers stai'd Her mighty Rafters up whereon relied The weighty burthen of her lofty pride When lusty dyet and the frollicke cup Had rouz'd and rais'd their quickned spirits up 〈◊〉 brave triumphing Bacchus had displaid 〈◊〉 conquering colours in their cheeks they said 〈◊〉 Samson forth He must not worke toâ— day 〈…〉 feast Wee 'l give him leave to play 〈…〉 bravely Does our Mill-horse sweat 〈◊〉 lacke nothing What he wants in meaâ—e 〈◊〉 in lashes He is strong and stout 〈◊〉 his breath can drive the Mill about 〈◊〉 too hard we feare Goe downe and free him 〈◊〉 that his Mistresse Delila would see him 〈◊〉 of him will take our howers short 〈◊〉 him then to make our Honours sport 〈◊〉 proviaâ— some Riddles Let him bring 〈◊〉 of Triumph He that 's blinde may sing 〈◊〉 better boldnesse Bid him never doubt 〈◊〉 What matter though his eyes be out 〈◊〉 dishonour that he cannot see 〈◊〉
And froÌ„ their ragged wounds they suck forth blood The father dies and leaves his pined Coarse T' inrich his Heire with meat The hungry Nurse Broyles her starv'd suckling on the hastie coales Devoures one halfe and hides the rest in holes O Tyrant Famine that compell'st the Mother To kill one hungry Childe to feed another ELEG 11. LAment O sad Ierusalem lament O weepe if all thy teares be yet unspent Weepe wasted Iudâ—h let no drop be kept Vnshed let not one teare be left unwept For angry heaven hath nothing left undone To bring thy ruines to perfection No curse no plague the fierce Almighty hath Kept backe to summe the totall of his wrath Thy Citie burnes thy Sion is dispoyld Thy Wives are ravisht and thy Maides defil'd Famine at home the Sword abroad destroyes thee Thou cry'st to heav'n heav'n his â—are denies thee ELEG 12. MAy thy dull senses O unhappy Nation Possest with nothing now but desolation Collect their scatter'd forces and behold Thy novell fortunes ballanc'd with the old Couldst thou ô could thy prosp'rous heart coÌ„ceive That mortall powre or art of State could reive Thy ' illustrious Empire of her sacred glory And make her ruines the Threnâ—dian story Of these sad times and ages yet to be Envie could pine but never hope to see Thy buildings crusht and all that glory ended Which Man so fortifyde and Heav'n defended ELEG 13. NE're had the splendor of thy bright renowne Beene thus extinguisht ludah Thy fast Crowne Had ne're beene spurn'd from thy Imperiall brow Plenty had nurs'd thy soule thy peacefull plough Had fill'd thy fruitfull Quarters with encrease Hadst thou but knowne thy selfe and loved peace But thou hast broke that sacred truce concluded Betwixt thy God and thee vainly deluded Thy selfe with thine own strength with deadly feud Thy furious Priests and Prophets have pursude The mourning Saints of Sion and did sâ—ay All such as were more just more pure then they ELEG 14. O How the Priests of Sion whose pure light Should shine to such as grope in Errors night And blaze like Lampâ— before the darkned eye Of Ignorance to raise up those that lie In dull despaire and guide those feet that strey Ay me How blinde how darke how dull are they Fierce rage fury drives them through the street And like to mad men stabbe at all they meet They weare the purple Livery of Death And live themselves by drawing others breath Say wasted Sion could Revenge behold So foule an acted Scene as this and hold ELEG 15. PRophets and sacred Priests whose tongues whilere Did often whisper in th'Eternalls eare Disclos'd his Oracles found ready passage Twixt God and Man to carry heavens Embassage Are now the subjects of deserved scorne Of God forsaken and of man forlorne Accursed Gentiles are asham'd to know What Sions Priests are not asham'd to doe They see and blush and blushing flee away Fearing to touch things so defil'd as they They hate the filth of their abomination And chace them forth from their new conquer'd nation ELEG 16. QVite banisht from the joyes of earth and smiles Of heaven and deeply buried in her spoiles Poore Iudah lies unpitied disrespected Exil'd the World of God of Man rejected Like blasted eares among the fruitfull wheat She roames disperst and hath no certaine seat Her servile neck 's subjected to the yoake Of bondage open to th' impartiall stroake Of conquering Gentiles whose afflicting hand Smites every nooke of her disguised Land Of Youth respectlesse nor regarding Yeeres Nor Sex nor Tribe like scourging Prince Peers ELEG 17. REnt and deposed from Imperiall state â—y heavens high hand on heaven we must await To him that struck our sorrowes must appeale Where heaven hath smitâ— no hand of man can heale In vaine our wounds expected mans reliefe For disappointed hopes renew a griefe Aegypt opprest us in our fathers loynes What hope 's in Aegypt Nay if Aegypt joynes Her force with Iudah our united powres Could nere prevaile 'gainst such a foe as our's Aegypt that once did feele heavens scourge for grieving His flock would now refinde it for reliving ELEG 18. SO the quick-sented Beagles in a view O're hill and dale the fleeing Chase pursue As swift-foot Death and Ruine follow me That flees afraid yet knowes not where to flee Flee to the fields There with the sword I meet And like a Watch Death stands in every street No covert hides from death no Shade no Cells So darke wherein not Death and Horror dwells Our dayes are numbred and our number 's done The empty Houre-glasse of our glorie 's run Our sins are summ'd and so extreame 's the score That heauen could not doe lesse nor hell do more ELEG 19. TO what a downfall are our fortunes come Subjected to the suffrance of a doome Whose lingring torments Hell could not conspire More sharp than which hell needs no other fire How nimble are our Foemen to betray Our soules Eagles are not so swift as they Where shall we flee Or where shall sorrow finde A place for harbour Ah what prosp'rous winde Will lend a gale whose bounty ne're shall cease Till we be landed on the I le of peace My foes more fierce than empty Lions are For hungry Lions woo'd with teares will spare ELEG 20. VSurping Gentiles rudely have engrost Into their hands those fortunes we have lost Devoure the fruits that purer hands did plant Are plump and pampred with that bread we want And what is worse than death a Tyrant treads Vpon our Throne Pagans adorne their heads With our lost crowns their powers have dis-jointed The Members of our State and Heavens Anointed Their hands have crusht ravisht from his throne And made a Slave for Slaves to tread upon Needs must that flock be scattred and accurst where wolves have dar'd to seize the Shepherd first ELEG 21. WAxe fat with laughing Edom with glad eies Behold the fulnesse of our miseries Triumph thou Type of Antichrist and feed Thy soule with joy to see thy brothers â—eed Ruin'd and rent and rooted from the earth Make haste and solace thee with early mirth But there 's a time shall teachâ—thee how to weepe As many teares as I thy lips as deepe Shall drinke in sorrowes Cup as mine have done Till then cheere up thy spirits and laugh on Offended Iustice often strikes by turnes Edom â—eware for thy next neighbour burnes ELEG 22. YE drooping sonnes of Sion O arise And shut the flood-gates of your flowing eyes Surcease your sorrowes and your joyes attend For heaven hath spoke it and your griefes â—â—al end Beleeve it Sion seeke no curious signe And wait heav'ns pleasure as heav'n waited thine And thou triumphing Edâ—m that dost lye In beds of Roses thou whose prosp'rous eye Did smile to see the Gates of Sion fall Shalt be subjected to the selfe-fame thrall Sion that weepes shall smile and Edoms eye That smiles so fast as fast shall shortly cry The Prophet Ieremie his