chain'd To this sad Object with a full delight To see this flesh-and-blood-relenting sight With that the pris'ner turnd himselfe and prai'd So soft that none but heaven could heare and said My God my God Although my sinnes doe cry For greater vengeance yet thy gratious eye Is full of mercy O remember now The gentle promise and that sacred vow Thou mad'st to faithfull Abram and his seed O heare my wounded soule that has lesse need Of life then mercy Let thy tender eare Make good thy plentious promise now and heare See how thy cursed enemies prevaile Above my strength Behold how poore and fraile My native power is and wanting thee What is there Oh what is there Lord in me Nor is it I that suffer My desart May challenge greater vengeance if thou wert Extreme to punish Lord the wrong is thine The punishment is just and onely mine I am thy Champion Lord It is not me They strike at Through my sides they thrust at thee Against thy Glory 't is their Malice lies They aym'd at that when they put out these eyes Alas their blood bedabbl'd hands would flie On thee wert thou but cloth'd in flesh as I Revenge thy wrongs great God O let thy hand Redeeme thy suffring honour and this land Lend me thy power Renew my wasted strength That I may fight thy battells and at length Rescue thy Glory that my hands may doe That faithfull service they were borne unto Lend me thy power that I may restore Thy losse and I will never urge thee more Thus having ended both his armes he laid Vpon the pillours of the Hall and said Thus with the Philistines I resigne my breath Andlet my God finde Glory in my death And having spoke his yeelding body strain'd Vpon those Marble pillour that sustain'd The pondrous Roofe They crackt and with their fall Downe fell the Battlements and Roofe and all And with their ruines slaughter'd at a blow The whole Assembly They that were below Receiv'd their sudden deaths from those that fell From off the top whilst none was loft to tell The horrid shreekes that filld the spatious Hall Whose ruines were impartiall and slew all They fell and with an unexpected blow Gave every one his death and Buriall too Thus died our Samson whose brave death has won More honour then his honourd life had done Thus died our Conquerour whose latest breath Was crown'd with Conquest triumph'd over death Thus died our Samson whose last drop of blood Redeem'd heavens glory and his Kingdom 's good Thus died heavens Champion the earths bright Glory The heavenly subject of this sacred story And thus th' impartiall hand of death that gathers All to the Grave repos'd him with his fathers Whose name shall flourish and be still in prime In spight of ruine or the teeth of Time Whose fame shall last till heaven shall please to free This Earth from Sinne and Time shall cease to be MEDITAT 23. VVAges of sinne is death The day must come Wherein the equall hand of death must summe The severall Items of mans fading glory Into the easie Totall of one Story The browes that sweat for kingdomes and renowne To gloryfie their Temples with a Crowne At length grow cold and leave their honour'd name To flourish in th' uncertaine blast of fame This is the height that glorious mortalls can Attaine This is the highest pitch of Man The quilted Quarters of the Earths great Ball Whose unconfined limits were too small For his extreme Ambition to deserve Six foote of length and three of bredth must serve This is the highest pitch that Man can flie And after all his Triumph he must die Lives he in Wealth Does well deserved store Limit his wish that he can wish no more And does the fairest bounty of encrease Crowne him with plenty and his dayes with peace It is a right hand blessing But supplie Of wealth cannot secure him He must die Lives he in Pleasure Dóes perpetuall mirth Lend him a little Heaven upon his earth Meets he no sullen care no sudden losse To coole his joyes Breathes he without a crosse Wants he no pleasure that his want on eye Can crave or hope from fortune He must dye Lives he in Honour Hath his faire desart Obtain'd the freedome of his Princes heart Or may his more familiar hands disburse His liberall favours from the royall purse Alas his Honour cannot soare too high For palefac'd death to follow He must dye Lives he a Conqu'rour And doth heaven blesse His heart with spirit that spirit with successe Successe with Glory Glory with a name To live with the Eternity of Fame The progresse of his lasting fame may vye With time But yet the Conquerour must dye Great and good God Thou Lord of life and death In whom the Creature hath his being breath Teach me to under prize this life and I Shall finde my losse the easier when I dye So raise my feeble thoughts and dull desire That when these vaine and weary dayes expire I may discard my flesh with joy and quit My better part of this false earth and it Of some more sinne and for this Transitory And teadious life enjoy a life of Glory The end
THE HISTORIE OF SAMSON Written By FRA QVARLES LONDON Printed by M. F. for IOHN MARRIOTT in S. Dunstans Church-yard in Fleetstreet 1631. for the time but quickly leaves us to our former darknesse The overtaken Lanthorne is the true Friend which though it promise but a faint light yet it goes along with us as farre as it can towards our Journies end The offered Linke is the mercenary Friend which though it be ready enough to doe us service yet that service hath a servile relation to our bountie Sir in the middle ranke I finde you hating the first and scorning the last to whom in the height of my undissembled assection and unfained thankfulnes I commend my selfe and this booke to receive an equall censure from your uncorrupted judgement In the Bud it was yours it blossomd yours and now your favour able acceptance confirmes the fruit yours All I crave is that you would be pleased to interpret these my intentions to proceed from an ardent desire that hath long beene in labour to expresse the true affections of him That holds it an honor to honor you FRA QVARLES TO THE READER THE tyranny of my Affaires was never yet so imperious but I could steale some howers to my private Meditations the fruits of which stolne time I here present thee with in the History of Samson Wherein if thy extreme severity checke at any thing which thou conceivest may not stand with the majesty of this sacred Subject know that my intention was not to offend my brother The wisest of Kings inspired by the King of Wisedome thought it no detraction from the gravity of his Holy Proverbs to describe a Harlot like a Harlot Her whorish Attire her immodest Gesture her bold Countenance her flattring Tongue her lascivious Embraces her unchast Kisses her impudent Invitations If my descriptions in the like kinde offend I make no question but the validitie of my Warrant will give a reasonable satisfaction Hee that lifts not his feet high enough may easily stumble But on the contrary If any be whose worse then Sacrilegious mindes shall prophane our harmelesse intentions with wanton conceits to such I heartily wish a Procul ite Let none such looke farther then this Epistle at their owne perils If they doe let them put off their shooes for this is holy Ground Foule hands will muddle the clearest waters and base mindes will corrupt the purest Text If any offence be taken it is by way of stealth for there is none willingly given I write to Bees and not to Spiders They will suck pleasing hony from such flowers These may burst with their owne poyson But you whose well-seasond hearts are not distempered with either of these extremities but have the better rellish of a Sacred understanding draw neere and reade I Sing th' illustrious and renowned story Of mighty Samson The eternall glory Of his Heroicke acts His life His death Quicken my Muse with thy diviner breath Great God of Muses that my prosp'rous rimes May live and last to everlasting times That they unborne may in this sacred story Admire thy goodnes and advance thy glory THE HISTORIE OF SAMSON SECT 1. ARGVMENT A holy Angell doth salute The wife of Manoah and inlarge Her barren wombe with promis'd fruit Of both their loynes The Angels charge WIthin the Tents of Zorah dwelt a man Of Iacobs seed and of the Tribe of Dan Knowne by the name of Manoah to whom Heaven had deni'd the treasure of the wombe His Wife was barren And her prayres could not Remove that great reproach or clense that blot Which on her fruitless name appear'd so foule Not to encrease the Tribe of Dan one soule Long had she doubtles stroven with heaven by prayres Made strong with teares and sighes Hopes and despaires No doubt had often tortur'd her desire Vpon a Rock compos'd of frost and fire But Heaven was pleas'd to turne His deafned eares Against those prayres made strong with sighes and teares She often praid but prayres could not obtaine Alas she pray'd she wept she sigh'd in vaine She pray'd no doubt but prayres could finde no roome They proov'd alas as barren as her wombe Vpon a time when her unanswer'd prayre Had now given just occasion of despaire Even when her bedrid faith was growne so fraile That very Hope grew heartlesse to prevaile Appear'dan Angel to her In his face Terrour and sweetnesse labour'd for the place Sometimes his Sun-bright eyes would shine so fierce As if their pointed beames would even pierce Her soule and strike th' amaz'd beholder dead Sometimes their glory would dispeirce and spread More easie flames and like the Starre that stood O're Bethlem promise and portend some good Mixt was his bright aspect as if his breath Had equall errands both of life and death Glory and Mildnesse seemed to contend In his fayre eyes so long till in the end In glorious mildnesse and in milder glory He thus salutes her with this pleasing story Woman Heaven greets thee well Rise up and feare not Forbeare thy faithlesse tremblings I appeare not Clad in the vestments of consuming fire Cheare up I have no warrant to enquire Into thy sinnes I have no Vyals here Nor dreadfull Thunderbolts to make thee feare I have no plagues t' inflict nor is my breath Charg'd with destruction or my hand with death No no cheare up I come not to destroy I come to bring thee tydings of great joy Rowze up thy dull beliefe for I appeare To exercise thy Faith and not thy Feare The Guide and great Creator of all things Chiefe Lord of Lords and supreame King of Kings To whom an Host of men are but a swarme Of murmring Gnats whose high prevayling arme Can crush ten thousand worlds and at one blow Can strike the earth to nothing and ore-throw The Losts of Heaven he that hath the keyes Of wombes to shut and ope them when he please He that can all things that he will this day Is pleas'd to take thy long reproach away Behold thy wombe's inlarg'd and thy desires Shall finde successe Before long time expires Thou shalt conceive Eretwise five months be runne Be thou the joyfull mother ef a sonne But see thy wary palate doe forbeare The juyce of the bewitching Grape Beware Lest thy desires tempt thy lips to wine Which must be faithfull strangers to the Vine Strong drinke thou must not tast and all such meate The Law proclaimes uncleane refraine to eate And when the fruit of thy restored wombe Shall see the light take heed no Rasor come Vpon his fruitfull head For from his birth Soone as the wombe entrusts him on the earth The child shall be a Nazarite to God By whose appointment he shall prove a Rod To scourge the proud Philistians and recall Poore suffring Israel from their slavish thrall MEDITAT 1. HOw impudent is Nature to account Those acts her owne that doe so farre surmount Her easie reach How purblind are those eyes Of stupid mortalls that
a full ag'd Lyon who had sought But could not finde his long desired prey Soone as his eye had given him hopes to pay His debt to nature and to mend that fault His empty stomacke found he made assault Vpon th' unarmed lovers brest whose hand Had neither staffe nor weapon to withstand His greedy rage but he whose mighty strength Or sudden death must now appeare at length Stretcht forth his brawny arme his arme supplide With power from heaven and did with ease divide His body limme from limme and did betray His Flesh to foules that lately sought his prey This done his quicke redoubled paces make His stay amends his nimble steps oretake His leading parents who by this discover The smoake of Timnah Now the greedy Lover Thinkes every step a mile and every pace A measur'd League untill he see that face And finde the treasure of his heart that lies In the faire Casket of his Mistresse Eyes But all this while close Samson made not knowne Vnto his parents what his hands had done By this the gate of Timnah entertaines The welcome travellers The parents paines Are now rewarded with their sonnes best pleasure The Virgin comes His eyes can finde no leasure To owne another object O the greeting Th' impatient lovers had at their first meeting The Lover speakes She answers He replies She blushes He demandeth She denyes He pleads affection She doubts Hee sues For nuptiall love She questions Hee renewes His earnest suite Importunes She relents He must have no deniall She consents They passe their mutuall loves Their joyned hands Are equall earnests of the nuptiall bands The parents are agreed All parties pleas'd The day 's set downe the lovers hearts are eas'd Nothing displeases now but the long stay Betwixt th' appointment and the mariage day MEDITAT 8. T Is too severe a censure If the Sonne Take him a wife the mariage fairely done Without consent of parents who perchance Had rais'd his higher price knew where t' advance His better'd fortunes to one hundred more He lives a Fornicator She a Whore Too hard a censure And it seemes to me The parent's most delinquent of the three What if the better minded Son doe aime At worth What if rare vertues doe inflame His rapt affection What if the condition Of an admir'd and dainty disposition Hath won his soule Where as the covetous Father Findes her Gold light and recommends him rather T' an old worne widow whose more weighty purse Is fill'd with gold and with the Orphans curse The sweet exubrance of whose full-mouth'd portion Is but the cursed issue of extortion Whose worth perchance lies onely in her weight Or in the bosome of her great estate What if the Sonne that does not care to buy Abundance at so deare a rate deny The soule-detesting profer of his Father And in his better judgement chooses rather To match with meaner Fortunes and desert I thinke that Mary chose the better part What noble Families that have out growne The best records have quite binoverthrowne By wilfull parents that will either force Their sonnes to match or haunt them with a curse That can adapt their humours to rejoyce And fancy all things but their childrens choice Which makes them often timerous to reveale The close desiers of their hearts and steale Such matches as perchance their faire advice Might in the bud have hindred in a trice Which done and past O then their hastie spirit Can thinke of nothing under Disinherit He must be quite discarded and exilde The furious father must renounce his childe Nor Prayre nor Blessing must he have bereiven Of all Nor must he live nor die forgiven When as the Fathers rashnesse often times Was the first causer of the Childrens crimes Parents be not too cruell Children doe Things oft too deepe for us t' enquire into What father would not siorme if his wild Sonne Should doe the deed that Samson here had done Nor doe I make it an exemplar act Only let parents not be too exact To curse their children or to dispossesse Them of their blessings Heaven may chance to blesse Be not too strict Faire language may recure A fault of youth whilst rougher words obdure SECT 9. ARGVMENT Samson goes downe to celebrate His mariage and his nuptiall feast The Lyon which he slue of late Hath hony in his putrid brest WHen as the long expected time was come Wherein these lingring Lovers should consumme The promis'd mariage and observe therites Pertaining to those festivall delights Samson went downe to Timnah there t' enjoy The sweet possession of his dearest joy But as he past those fruitfull Vineyards where His hands of late acquit him of that feare Wherewith the feirce assaulting Lyon quail'd His yet unpractis'd courage and prevail'd Vpon his life as by that place he past He turn'd aside and borrowed of his hast A little time wherein his eyes might view The Carkas of the Lyon which he flew But when his wandring footsteps had drawne neere The unlamented herse his wandring eare MEDITAT 9. HOw high unutterable how profound Whose depth the line of knowledge cannot sound Are the decrees of the Eternall God! How secret are his wayes and how untrod By mans conceipt so deeply charg'd with doubt How are his Counsells past our finding out O how unscrutable are his designes How deepe and how unsearchable are the Mines Of his abundant Wisedome How obscure Are 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 haue 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 afamine Heaven shall turne to brasse And earth to Iron till it come to passe With stockes and stones and plants and beasts fulfill The secret Counsell of his sacred will Man onely wretched Man is disagreeing To doe that thing for which he hath his being Samson must downe to Timnah In the way Must meete a Lyon whom his hands must slay The Lyo'ns 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 fufill The secret pleasure of his sacred will Great Saviour of the world Thou Lambe of Sion That hides our sinnes Thou art that 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 Misteries as none but he that plough'd With thy sweet Hayfer's able to uncloud Such
Of necessary evills to choose the least Why doubt I then When Reason bids me doe I le know the Riddle and betray it too With that she quits her chamber with her cares And in her closset locks up all her feares And with a speed untainted with delay She found that brest wherein her owne heart lay Where resting for a while at length did take A faire occasion to looke up and spake Life of my soule and loves perpetuall treasure If my desires be suiting to thy pleasure My lips would move a Suite My doubtfull brest Would faine preferre an undenyde request When strength of wit and secret power of fraud Grow dull constraint must conquer and applaud With ill got vict'ry which at length obtaind Alas how poore a trifle have we gaind How are our soules distempered to engrosse Such fading pleasures To ore-prize the dresse And under-rate the gold for painted Ioyes To sell the true and heaven it selfe for Toyes Lord clarifie mine eyes that I may know Things that are good from what are good in show And give me wisedome that my heart may learne The diffrence of thy favours and discerne What 's truly good from what is good in part With Martha's trouble give me Maries heart SECT 12. ARGVMENT The Bride shee begs and begs in vaine But like to a prevailing wooer She sues and sues and sues againe At last he reads the Riddle to her WHen the next morning had renew'd the day And th' earely twilight now had chac'd away The pride of night and made her lay aside Her spangled Robes the discontented Bride Whose troubled thoughts were tired with the night And broken slumbers long had wisht for light With a deepe sigh her sorrow did awake Her drowsie Bridegroome whom she thus bespake O if thy love could share an equall part In the sad griefes of my asflicted heart Thy closed eyes had never in this sort Bin pleas'd with rest and made thy night so short Perchance if my dull eyes had slumbred too My dreames had done what thou denide to doe Perchance my Fancy would have bin so kinde T' unsolve the doubts of my perplexed minde I was a small suite that thy unluckie Bride Must light upon Too small to be denyde Can love so soone But ere her lips could spend The following words he said suspend suspend Thy rash attempt and let thy tongue dispense With forc'd denyall Let thy lips commence Some greater Suite and Samson shall make good Thy faire desiers with his dearest blood Speake then my love thou shalt net wish and want Thou canst not beg what Samson cannot grant Onely in this excuse me and refraine To beg what thou perforce must beg in vaine Inexorable Samson Can the teares From those faire eyes not move thy deafned eares O can those drops that trickle from those eyes Vpon thy naked bosome not surprize Thy neighb'ring heart and force it to obey O can thy heart not melt as well as they Thou little thinkst thy poore afflicted wife Importunes thee and wooes thee for her life Her Suit 's as great a Riddle to thine eares As thine to hers O these distilling teares Are silent pleaders and her moistred breath Would faine redeeme her from the gates of death May not her teares prevaile Alas thy strife Is but for wagers Her 's poore Soule for life Now when this day had yeelded up his right To the succeeding Empresse of the night Whose soone-deposed raigne did reconvay Her crowne and Scepter to the new borne day The restlesse Bride feares cannot brooke deniall Renewes her suite and attempts a further tryall Entreats conjures she leaves no way untride She will not no she must not be denide But he the portalls of whose marble heart Was lockt and barr'd against the powerfull art Of oft repeated teares stood deafe and dumbe He must not no he will not be orecome Poore Bride How is thy glory overcast How is the pleasure of the nuptialls past When scarce begun Alas how poore a breath Of joy must puffe thee to untimely death The day 's at hand wherein thou must untie The Riddles tangled Snarle or else must die Now when that day was come wherein the feast Was to expire the Bride whose pensive brest Grew sad to death did once more undertake Her too resolved Bridegroome thus and spake Vpon these knees that prostrate on the floore Are lowly bended and shall nev'r give ore To move thy goodnesse that shall never rise Vntill my Suite finds favour in thine eyes Vpon these naked knees I here present My sad request O let thy heart relent A Suitor sues that never sued before And she begs now that never will beg more Hast thou vow'd silence O remember how Thou art engaged by a former vow Thy heart is mine The secrets of thy heart Are mine Why art thou dainty to impart Mine owne to me Then give me leave to sue For what my right may challenge as her due Vnfold thy Riddle then that I may know Thy love is more then only love in show The Bridegroome thus enchanted by his Bride Vnseal'd his long-kept silence and replide Thou sole and great commandresse of my heart Thou hast prevail'd my bosome shall impart The summe of thy desiers and discharge The faithfull secrets of my soule at large Know then my joy Vpon that very day I first made knowne my'affection on the way I met and grappled with a sturdy Lyon Having nor staffe nor weapon to relie on I was enforc'd to proove my naked strength Vnequall was the match But at the length This brawney arme receiving strength from him That gave it life I tore him limme from limme And left him dead Now when the time was come Wherein our promis'd nuptialls were to summe And perfect all my joyes as I was comming That very way a strange confused humming Not distant farre possest my wondring eare Where guided by the noise there did appeare A Swarme of Bees whose busie labours fill'd The Carkasse of that Lyon which I kill'd With Combes of Hony wherewithall I fed My lips and thine And now my Riddle 's read MEDITAT 12. THe soule of man before the taint of Nature Bore the faire Image of his great Creator His understanding had no cloud His will No crosse That knew no Error This no ill But man transgrest And by his wofull fall Lost that faire Image and that little all Was left was all corrupt His understanding Exchang'd her object Reason left commanding His Memory was depraved and his will Can finde no other subject now but Ill It grew distemperd left the righteous reine Of better Reason and did entertaine The rule of Passion under whose command It suffered Ship-wracke upon every Sand Where it should march it evermore retires And what is most forbid it most desires Love makes it see too much and often blinde Doubt makes it light and waver like the winde Hate makes it fierce and studious Anger mad Ioy makes it carelesse Sorrow dull
there Where ere they come they fire Nothing was left that was not lost and burn'd And now that fruitfull land of Iewry's turn'd A heape of Ashes That faire land while ere Which fild all hearts with joy and every eare With newes of plenty and of blest encrease The joyfull issue of a happy peace See how it lies in her owne ruines void Of all her happinesse disguiz'd destroy'd With that the Philistines whose sad reliefe And comfort 's deeply buried in their griefe Began to question they did all partake In th' irrecoverable losse and spake What cursed brand of Hell What more then Devill What envious Miscreant hath done this evill Whereto one sadly standing by replide It was that cursed Samson whose faire Bride Was lately ravisht from his absent brest By her false father who before the feast Of nuptiall was a month expir'd and done By second mariage own'd another sonne For which this Samson heav'd from off the henge Of his lost reason studied this revenge That Timnits falshood wrought this desolation Samson the Actor was but he th' occasion With that they all consulted to proceed In height of Iustice to revenge this deed Samson whose hand was the immediate cause Of this foule act is stronger then their lawes Him they refer to time For his proud hand May bring a second ruine to their land The cursed Timnite he that did divide The lawful Bridegroome from his lawfull Bride And mov'd the patience of so strong a foe To bring these evils and worke their overthrow To him they hast and with resolv'd desire Of blood they burne his house him with fire MEDITAT 15. Dost thou not tremble Does thy troubled eare Not tingle nor thy spirits faint to heare The voice of those whose dying shriekes proclame Their tortures that are broyling in the flame She whose illustrious beauty did not know Where to be matcht but one poore houre agoe She whose faire eyes were apt to make man erre From his knowne faith and turne Idolater She whose faire cheeks inricht with true cōplexion Seem'd beauties store-house of her best perfection See how she lies see how this beautie lies A foule offence unto thy loathing eyes A fleshly Cinder lying on the floore Starke naked had it not bin cover'd ore With bashfull ruines which were fallen downe From the consumed roofe and rudely throwne On this halfe-roasted earth O canst thou reade Her double story and thy heart not bleed What art thou more then she Tell me wherein Art thou more priviledg'd Or can thy sinne Plead more t' excuse it Art thou faire and yong Why so was she Were thy temptations strong Why so were hers What canst thou plead but she Had powre to plead the same as well as thee Nor was 't her death alone could satisfie Revenge her father and his house must dye Vnpunisht crimes doe often bring them in That were no lesse then strangers to the sinne Ely must dye because his faire reproofe Of too foule sinne was not austere enough Was vengeance now appeas'd Hath not the crime Paid a sufficient Intrest for the time Remove thine eye to the Philistian fields See what increase their fruitfull harvest yeelds There 's nothing there but a confused heape Of ruinous ashes There 's no corne to reape Behold the poyson of unpunisht sinne For which the very earth 's accurst agin Famine must act her part her griping hand For one mans sinne must punish all the Land Is vengeance now appeas'd Hath sinne given ore To cry for plagues Must vengeance yet have more O now th' impartiall sword must come and spill The blood of such as Famine could not kill The language of unpunisht sinne cryes loud It roares for Iustice and it must have blood Famine must follow where the Fire begun The Sword must end what both have left undone Iust God our sinnes doe dare thee to thy face Our score is great our Ephah fill's apace The leaden cover threatens every minut To close the Ephah and our sinnes within it Turne backe thine eye Let not thine eye behold Such vile pollutions Let thy vengeance hold Looke on thy dying Sonne There shalt thou spie An Object that 's more fitter for thine eye His sufferings Lord are farre above our sinnes O looke thou there Ere Iustice once begins T'unsheathe her Sword O let one pretious drop Fall from that pierced side and that will stop The eares of vengeance from that clamorous voice Of our loud sinnes which make so great a noise O send that drop before Revenge begins And that will cry farre louder then our sinnes SECT 16. ARGVMENT He makes a slaughter Doth remove To Etans rocke where to repay him The wrongs that he had done they move the men of Iudah to betray him THus when th'accurs'd Philistians had appaid The Timnits sinne with ruine and betraid Th'unjust Offenders to their fierce desire And burn'd their cursed Family with fire Samson the greatnesse of whose debt denide So short a payment and whose wrongs yet cride For further vengeance to be further laid Vpon the sinne-conniving Nation said Vnjust Philistians you that could behold So capitall a crime and yet with-hold This well-deserved punishment so long Which made you partners in their sinne my wrong Had yee at first when as the fault was yong Before that Time had lent her clamorous tongue So great a strength to call for so much blood O had your earlie Iustice but thought good To strike in time nay had you then devis'd Some easier punishment it had suffic'd But now it comes too late The sin has cryed Till heaven hath heard and mercy is denied Nay had the sin but spar'd to roare so loud A drop had serv'd when now a Tide of blood Will hardly stop her mouth Had ye done this betimes But now this hand Must plague your persons and afflict your land Have ye beheld a youth-instructing Tutor Whose wisedom's seldome seene but in the future When well deserved punishment shall call For the delinquent Boy how first of all He preaches fairely then proceedes austerer To the foule crime whilst the suspitious hearer Trembles at every word untill at length His language being ceas'd th' unwelcome strength Of his rude arme that often proves too rash Strickes home and fetches blood at every lash Even so stout Samson whose more gentle tongue In easie tearmes doth first declare the wrong Injustice did then tells the evill effects That mans connivence and unjust neglects Does often bring upon th' afflicted land But at the last upheaves his ruthlesse hand He hewes he hacks and fury being guide His unresisted power doth divide From top to toe his furious weapon cleft Where ere it strucke It slue and never left Vntill his flesh-destroying arme at length Could finde no subject where t' imploy his strength Here stands a head-strong Steed whose fainting guider Drops downe another dragges his wounded rider Now here now there his franticke arme would thunder And at one stroake cleaves
thoughts did guide His lips to fairer language thus replide Yee men of Iudah what distrustfull thought Of single Samsons violence hath brought So great a strength as if you meant t' orethrow Some mighty Monarch or surprise a Foe Tour easie errand might as well bin done By two or three or by the lips of one The meanest childe of holy Israels seede Might conquer'd Samson with a bruised reed Alas the boldnesse of your welcome words Need no protection of these staves and Swords Brethren the intention of my comming hither Was not to wrong you or deprive you either Of lives or goods or of your poorest due My selfe is cheaper to my selfe then you My comming is on a more faire designe I come to crush your tyranous foes and mine I come to free your country and recall Your servile shoulders from the slavish thrall Of the proud Philistines and with this hand To make you freemen in your promis'd Land But you are come to binde me and betray Your faith full Champion to those hands that lay Perpetuall burthens on which daily vex Your galled shoulders and your servile necks The wrongs these cursed Philistines have done My simple innocence have quite outrun My easie patience If my arme may right My too much injur'd suffrance and requite What they have done to me it would appease My raging thoughts and give my tortures ease But ye are come to binde me I submit I yeeld And if my bondage will acquit Your new borne feares T is well But they that doe Attempt to ruine me will ransack you First you shall firmely ' engage your plighted troth By the acceptance of a sacred oath That when I shall be prisoner 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 join'd his hands To be subjected to their stronger bands With treble twisted cords that never tried The twitch of strength their buisie 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 Penn'd by an Angells quill not understood By the too dull con ceitof flesh and blood Vnkinde Iudeans what have you presented Before our 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 hee whose sinowy arme had power To crush you all to nothing and to shower Down strokes like thunderbolts whose blasting breath Might in a moment pufft 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 blood Hath power to save more worlds then Noah's flood Destroyed bodies thou O thou that art The Samson of our soules How can the heart Of man give thanks enough that does not know How much his death-redeemed soule does owe To thy deare merits We can apprehend No more then flesh and blood 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 not can our hearts attaine Those joyes that thou hast purchas'd in our name Nor yet the price thou paidst Our thoughts are lame 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 bound We know alas thy bleeding browes were crown'd With prickling thorne Thy body torne with whips Thy palmes impeirc'd with ragged nailes Thy lips Saluted with a Traitors kisse Thy browes Sweating forth blood Thy oftrepeated 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 burthen of our guilt and Scroule Of all our sinns and horrid paines of Hell O what that soule endur'd what soule can tell SECT 18. ARGVMENT He breakes their bands And with a Bone A thousand Philistians he slue He thirsted fainted made his mone To heaven He drinkes His spirits renew 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 then the greatnesse of their joyes Required Some with sudden death would greet The new come Guest whil'st 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 Some cry T is fittest that th' offender bleed There where his cursed hands had done the deed Others cryed No where Fortune hath consign'd him Wee'lk H 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 yee beheld a single thred of flax Touch'd by the fier how the fier 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 and freed his loosned hands Hee stoop'd from off the blood-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 slesh-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
earnest of a greater blisse And with a brazen countenance she brake The way to her unchaste desires and spake Mirrour of mankinde thou selected flowre Of Loves faire knot welcome to Flora's bowrs Cheare up my Love and looke upon these eyes Wherein my beauty and thy picture lyes Come take me prisner in thy folded armes And boldly strike up sprightly loves alarmes Vpon these ruby lips and let us trie The sweets of love Here 's none but thee and I My beds are softest downe and purest lawne My sheets My vallents and my curtaines drawne In gold and silkes of curious dye Behold My Coverings are of Tap stry inricht with gold Come come and let us take our fill of pleasure My husbands absence lends me dainty leasure To give thee welcome Come let 's spend the night In sweet enjoyment of unknowne delight Her words prevail'd And being both undrest Together went to their defiled rest By this the newes of Samsons being there Possest the Citie and fill'd every eare His death is plotted And advantage lends New hopes of speed An armed guard attends At every gate that when the breaking day Shall send him forth th' expecting Forces may Betray him to his sudden death and so Revenge their Kingdomes ruine at a blow But lustfull Samson whose distrustfull eares Kept open house was now possest with feares Hee heares a whisp'ring and the trampling feet Of people passing in the silent street He whom undaunted courage lately made A glorious Conquerour is now afraid His conscious heart is smitten with his sinne He cannot chuse but feare and feare agin He feares and now the terrible alarmes Of sinne doe call him from th' unlawfull armes And lips of his luxurious Concubine Bids him arise from dalliance and resigne The usurpation of his luke-warme place To some new sinner whose lesse dangerous case May lend more leisure to so foule a deed Samson with greater and unwonted speed Leaps from his want on bed his feares doe presse More haste to cloath then lust did to undresse He makes no tarryance but with winged hast Bestrides the streets and to the gates he past And through the armed troupes he makes his way Beares gates and bars and pillers all away So scap'd the rage of the Philistian Band That still must owe his ruine to their land MEDITAT 19. HOw weake at strongest is poore flesh and blood Samson the greatnes of whose power withstood A little world of armed men with death Must now be foyled with a womans breath The mother sometimes lets her infant fall To make it hold the surer by the wall God lets his servant often goe amisse That he may turne and see how weake he is David that found an overflowing measure Of heavens high favours and as great a treasure Of saving grace and portion of the Spirit As flesh and blood was able to inherit Must have a fall to exercise his feares And make him drowne his restlesse Couch with Teares Wise Salomon within whose heart was planted The fruitfull stockes of heavenly Wisedome wanted Not that whereby his weakenesse understood The perfect vanity of flesh and blood Whose hand seem'd prodigall of his Isaacks life He durst not trust Gods providence with his wife The righteous Lot had slidings Holy Paul He had his pricke and Peter had his fall The sacred Bride in whose faire face remaines The greatest earthly beauty hath her staines If man were perfect and entirely good He were not Man He were not flesh and blood Or should he never fall he would at length Not see his weaknesse and presume in strength Ere children know the sharpnesse of the Edge They thinke their fingers have a priviledge Against a wound but having felt the knife A bleeding finger sometime saves a life Lord we are children and our sharpe-edg'd knives Together with our blood le ts out our lives Alas if we but draw them from the sheath They cut our fingers and they bleed to death Thou great Chirurgion of a bleeding soule Whose soveraigne baulme is able to make whole The deepest wound Thy sacred salve is sure We cannot bleed so fast as thou canst cure Heale thou our wounds that having salv'd the sore Our hearts may feare and learne to sinne no more And let our hands be strangers to those knives That wound not fingers onely but our lives Of your true servant who would never rest Till she had done the deed But know my Lords If the poore frailty of a womans words May shake so great a power and prevaile My best advis'd endeavours shall not faile To be imploi'd I 'le make a sudden triall And quickly speed or finde a foule deniall MEDITAT 20. INsatiate Samson Could not Azza smother Thy flaming lust but must thou finde another Is th' old growne stale And seeks thou for a new Alas where Two's too many Three 's too few Mans soule is infinite and never tires In the extension of her owne desires The sprightly nature of his active minde Aimes still at further Will not be confinde To th' poore dimensions of flesh and blood Something it still desiers Covets good Would faine be happy in the sweet enjoyment Of what it prosecutes with the imployment Of best endeavours but it cannot finde So great a good but something 's still behind It first propounds applauds desiers endeavours At last enjoyes but like to men in Feavours Who fancy alwaies those things that are worst The more it drinks the more it is a thirst The fruitfull earth whose nature is the worse For sinne with man partaker in the curse Aimes at perfection and would faine bring forth As first it did things of the greatest worth Her colder wombe endeavours as of old To ripen all her Metalls unto Gold O but that sic-procured curse hath child The heate of pregnant Nature and hath filld Her barren seed with coldnesse which does lurke In her faint wombe that her more perfect worke Is hindred and for want of heate brings forth Imperfect metals of a baser worth Even so the soule of Man in her first state Receiv'd a power and a will to that Which was most pure and good but since the losse Of that faire freedome onely trades in drosse Aimes she at Wealth Alas her proud desire Strives for the best but failing to mount higher Then earth her error grapples and takes hold On that which earth can onely give her Gold Aimes she at Glory Her ambition flies As high a pitch as her dull winges can rise But failing in her strength she leaves to strive And takes such honour as base earth can give Aimes she at Pleasure Her desires extend To lasting joyes whose pleasures have no end But wanting wings she grovells on the Dust And there she lights upon a carnall Lust Yet nerethelesse th' aspiring Soule desires A perfect good but wanting those sweet sires Whose heate should perfect her unrip'ned will Cleaves to th' apparent Good which Good is ill Whose sweet enjoyment being farre unable