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
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
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
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
How are thy Angells hacknei'd up and downe To visit man How poorely doe we crowne Their blessed labours They with Ioy dismount Laden with blessings but returneth ' account Of Filth and Trash They bring th' unvalued prize Of Grace and promis'd Glory while our eyes Disdaine these heavenly Factors and refuse Their proferd wares affecting more to chuse A Graine of pleasure then a Iemme of glory We finde no treasure but in Transitory And earth-bred Toyes while things immortall stand Like Garments to be sold at second hand Great God Thou know'st we are but flesh and blood Alas we can interpret nothing good But what is evill deceitfull are our Ioyes We are but children and we whine for Toyes Of things unknowne there can be no desire Quicken our hearts with the celestiall fire Of thy discerning Spirit and we shall know Both what is good and good desier too Vouchsafe to let thy blessed Angell come And bring the tydings that the barren wombe Of our Affections is enlarg'd O when That welcome newes shall be revealed then Our soules shall soone conceive and bring thee forth The firstlings of a new and holy birth SECT 3. ARGVMENT Manoah's wonder turnes to Zeale His zeale to prayre His prayres obtaine The Angell that did late reveale The joyfull newes returnes againe NOw when th' amazed woman had commended Her tongue to silence and her tale was ended Perplexed Manoah ravisht at the newes Within himselfe he thus began to muse Strange is the message And as strangely done Shall Manoah's loynes be fruitfull Shall a Sonne Blesse his last dayes Or shall an Issue come From the chill closset of a barren wombe Shall Manoah's wife give sucke and now at last Finde pleasure when her prime of youth is past Shall her cold wombe be now in age restor'd And was 't a man of God that brought the word Or was 't some false delusion that possest The weaknes of a lonely womans brest Or was 't an Angell sent from heaven to show What Heaven hath will as well as pow're to doe Till then thou must refraine to drinke or eate Wines and strong drinke and Law-forbidden meate Euill Angells rather would instruct to ryot They use not to prescribe so strickt a Dyet No no I make no further question of it 'T was some good Angell or some holy Prophet Thus having mus'd a while he bow'd his face Vpon the ground and prostrate in the place Where first he heard the welcome tydings pray'd His wonder now transform'd to Zeale and said Great God That hast engag'd thy selfe by vow When ere thy little Israell begs to bow Thy gratious eare O harken to the least Of Israel's sonnes and grant me my request By thee I live and breathe Thou did'st become My gratious God both in and from the wombe Thy precious favours I have still possest And have depended on thee from the Brest My simple Infancy hath bin protected By thee my Child-hood taught my youth corrected And sweetly chastned with thy gentle Rod I was no sooner but thou wert my God All times declare thee good This very houre Can testifie the greatnesse of thy power And promptnesse of thy Mercy which hast sent This blessed Angell to us to augment The Catalogue of thy favours and restore Thy servants wombe whose hopes had even given ore T' expect an Issue What thou hast begun Prosper and perfect till the worke be done Let not my Lord be angry if I crave A boone too great for me to beg or have Let that blest Angell that thou sent'st of late Reblesse us with his presence and relate Thy will at large and what must then be done When time shall bring to light this promis'd sonne About that time when the declining Lampe Trebles each shadow when the evening dampe Begins to moisten and refresh the land The Wife of Manoah under whose command The weaned Lambes did feed being lowly seated Vpon a Shrubbe where often she repeated That pleasing newes the subject of her thought Appear'd the Angell he that lately brought Those blessed tydings to her up she rose Her second feare had warrant to dispose Her nimble foot-steps to unwonted haste She runnes with speed she cannot runne too fast At length she findes her husband In her eyes Were Ioy and Feare whilst her lost breath denyes Her speech her trembling hands make signes She puffes and pants her breathlesse tongue disjoynes Her broken words Behold behold said she The man of God if man of God he be Appear'd againe These very eyes beheld The man of God I left him in our field MEDITAT 3. HEav'n is Gods Magazen wherein he hath Stor'd up his Vials both of love and wrath Iustice and Mercy waite upon his Throne Favors and Thunderbolts attend upon His sacred Will and Pleasure Life and Death Doe both receive their influence from his breath Iudgements attend his left at his right hand Blessings and ever lasting Pleasures stand Heav'n is the Magazen wherein he puts Both good and evill Prayre is the key that shuts And opens this great Treasure T is a key Whose wards are Faith and Hope and Charity Wouldst thou prevent a judgement due to sin Turncbut the key and thou maist locke it in Or wouldst thou have a Blessing fall upon thee Open the doore and it will shower on thee Can Heav'n be false Or can th' Almighties tongue That is all very truth doe Truth that wrong Not to performe a vow His lips have sworne Sworne by himselfe that if a Sinner turne To him by prayre his prayre shall not be lost For want of eare nor his desier crost How is it then we often aske and have not We aske and often misse because we crave not The things we should his wisedome can foresee Those blessings better that we want than wee Hast thou not heard a peevish Infant baule To gaine possession of a knife And shall Th'indulgent nurse be counted wisely kinde If she be mov'd to please his childish minde Is it not greater wisedome to denie The sharp-edg'd knife and to present his eye With a fine harmelesse Puppit We require Things oft unfit and our too fond desire Fastens on goods that are but glorious ills Whilst Heaven's high wisedome contradicts our wills With more advantage for we oft receive Things that are farre more fit for us to have Experience tells wee seeke and cannot finde We seeke and often want because we binde The Giver to our times He knowes we want Patience and therefore he suspends his grant T' increase our Faith that so we may depend Vpon his hand He loves to heare us spend Our childish mouthes Things easily obtain'd Are lewly priz'd but what our prayres have gain'd By teares and groanes that cannot be expest Are farre more deare and sweeter when possest Great God! whose power hath so oft prevail'd Against the strength of Princes and hast quail'd Their prouder stomackes with thy breath discrown'd Their heads and throwne their scepters to the ground Striking
their swelling hearts with cold despaire How art thou conquer'd and orecome by Prayre Infuse that Spirit Great God into my heart And I will have a Blessing ere we part SECT 4. ARGVMENT Manoah desires to know the fashion And breeding of his promis'd sonne To whom the Angell makes relation Of all things needfull to be done VVIth that the Danite rose being guided By his perplexed wife they both divided Their heedlesse paces till they had attain'd The field wherein the Man of God remain'd And drawing neerer to his presence stai'd His weary steps and with obeysance said Art thou the man whose blessed lips foretold Those joyfull tidings Shall my tongue be bold Without the breach of manners to request This boone Art thou that Prophet that possest This barren woman with a hope that She Shall beare a Sonne He answer'd I am He Said Manoah then Let not a word of thine Be lost let them continue to divine Our future happinesse Let them be crown'd With truth and thou with honour to be found A holy Prophet Let performance blesse And speed thy speeches with a faire successe But tell me Sir When this great worke is done And time shall bring to light this promis'd Sonne What sacred Ceremonies shall we use What Rites What way of breeding shall we chuse T' observe What holy course of life shall he Be trained in What shall his Office be Whereat th' attentive Angell did divide The portall of his lips and thus replide The Child that from thy fruitfull loynes shall come Shall be a holy Nazarite from the wombe Take heed that wombe that shall enclose this Childe In no case be polluted or defilde With Law-forbidden meates Let her forbeare To tast those things that are forbiddenthere The bunckbacke Camill shall be no repast For her Her palate shall forbeare to tast The burrow haunting Conie and decline The swiftfoot Hare and miredelighting Swine The griping Goshauke and the towring Eagle The party-collour'd Pye must not inveigle Her lips to move the brood devouring Kite The croaking Raven The Oule that hates the light The steele-digesting Bird The laisie Snaile The Cuckow ever telling of one taile The fish-consuming Osprey and the Want That undermines the greedy Cormorant Th' indulgent Pelican the predictious Crow The chattring Storke and ravenous Vulter too Of all good Counsells and from whom proceeds A living Spring to water all our needs How willing are his Angells to discend From of their throne of Glory and attend Vpon our wants How oft returne they back Mourning to Heaven as if they griev'd for lack Of our imployment O how prone are they To be assistant to us every way Have we just cause to joy They 'l come and sing About our beds Do's any judgement bring Iust cause of griefe They 'l fall agreeving too Doe we tryumph Their joyfull mouths will blow Their louder Trumpets Or doe feares affectus They 'l guard our heads from danger and protectus Are we in Prison or in Persecution They 'l fill our hearts with joy and resolution Or doe we languish in our sickly beds They 'l come and pitch their Tents about our heads See they a sinner penitent and mourne For his bewail'd offences and returne They clap their hands and joyne their warbling voices They sing and all the Quire of heaven rejoyces What is in us poore Dust and Ashes Lord That thou should'st looke upon us and afford Thy precious favours to us and impart Thy gracious Counselcs What is our desert But Death and Horror What can we more clame Then they that now are scortehing in that flame That hath nor moderation rest nor end How doe's thy mercy above thought extend To them thou lov'st Teach me great God to prize Thy sacred Counsells Open my blind eyes That I may see to walke the perfect way For as I am Lord I am apt to stray And wander to the gulfe of endlesse woe Teach me what must be done and helpe to doe SECT 5. ARGVMENT Manoah desires to understand But is denide the Angells name He offers by the Angells hand The Angell vanishes in a flame SO said The sonne of Israel easly apt To credit what his soule desir'd and rapt With better hopes which serv'd him as a guide To his beliefe o'rejoy'd he thus replide Let not the man of God whose Heavenly voice Hath blest mine care and made my soule rejoice Beyond expression now refuse to come Within my Tent and honour my poore home With his desired presence there to tast His servants slender diet and repast Vpon his Rurall fare These hands shall take A tender Kidde from out the flockes and make Without long tarriance some delightfull meate Which may invite the man of God to eate Come come my Lord And what defect of food Shall be thy servants welcome shall make good Where to the Angell who as yet had made Himselfe unknowne reanswer'd thus and said Excuseme Though thy hospitable love Prevaile to make me stay it cannot move My thankfull lips to tast thy liberall cheare Let not thy bounty urge in vaine Forbeare To strive with with whom thy welcome cannot leade To eate thy Kid or tast thy profer'd bread Convert thy bounty to a better end And let thy undefiled hands commend A burnt oblation to the King of Kings T' is he deserves the thankes his servant brings But that bare message with his lips enjoyne His be the glory of the Act not mine Said then the Israelite If my desire Be not to over rash but may conspire With thy good pleasure let thy servants eare Be honour'd with thy name that whensoere These blessed tidings that possesse my heart With firme beliefe shall in due time impart Their full perfection and desir'd successe To my expecting eye my soule may blesse The tongue that brought the message and proclame An equall honour to his honour'd name To whom the Angell whose severer brow Sent forth a frowne made answere Doe not thou Trouble thy busie thoughts with things that are Above thy reach Enquier not too farre My name is cloath'd in mists T' is not my taske To make it knowne to thee nor thine to aske The generous Spaniell loves his Masters eye And licks his fingers though no meat be by But Man ungratefull Man that 's borne and bred By Heavens immediate powre maintain'd and fed By his providing hand observ'd attended By his indulgent grace preserv'd defended By his prevailing arme this Man I say Is more ungratefull more obdure then they By him we live and move from him we have What blessings he can give or we can crave Food for our Hunger Dainties for our pleasure Trades for our buisnes Pastimes for our leasure In greife he is our Ioy in want our Wealth In bondage Freedome and in sicknes Health In peace our Counsell and in warre our Leader At Sea our Pilot and in Suites our Pleader In paine our Helpe in Triumph our Renowne In life our Comfort and in death our
Crowne Yet Man O most ungratefull Man can ever Enjoy the Gift but never minde the Giver And like the Swine though pamper'd with enough His eyes are never higher then the Trough We still receive Our hearts we seldome lift To heaven But drowne the giver in the Gift We tast the Skollops and returne the Shells Our sweet Pomgranats want their silver Bells We take the Gift the hand that did present it We oft reward forget the Friend that sent it A blessing given to those will not disburse Some thanks is little better then a curse Great giver of all blessngs thou that art The Lord of Gifts give me a gratefull heart O give me that or keepe thy favours from me I wish no blessings with a Vengeance to me SECT 6. ARGVMENT Affrighted Manoah and his wife Both prostrate on the naked earth Both rise The man despaires of life The woman cheares him Samsons birth VVHen time whose progresse moderates and outweares Th' extreamest passions of the highest Feares By his benignant power had reinlarg'd Their captive senses and at length discharg'd Their frighted thoughts the trembling Couple rose From their unquiet and disturb'd repose Have you beheld a Tempest how the waves Whose unresisted Tyranny out-braves And threats to grapple with the darkned Skies How like to moving Mountaines they arise From their distempred Ocean and assaile Heavens Battlements nay when the windes doe faile To breathe another blast with their owne motion They still are swelling and disturbe the Ocean Even so the Danite and his trembling wife Their yet confused thoughts are still at strife In their perplexed brests which entertain'd Continued feares too strong to be refrain'd Speechlesse they stood till Manoah that brake The silence first disclos'd his lips and spake What strange aspect was this that to our sight Appear'd so terrible and did affright Our scattering thoughts What did our eyes behold I feare our lavish tongues have bin too bold What speeches past betweene us Can'st recall The words we entertain'd the time withall It was no man It was no flesh and blood Me thought mine eares did tingle while he stood And commun'd with me At each word he spake Me thought my heart recoil'd his voice did shake My very Soule but when as he became So angry and so dainty of his name O how my wonder-smitten heart began To faile O then I knew it was no man No no It was the face of God Our eyes Have seene his face who ever saw 't but dies We are but dead Death dwells within his eye And we have seen 't and we shall surely die Where to the woman who did either hide Or else had over come her feares replide Despairing Man take courage and forheare These false predictions there 's no cause of feare Would Heaven accept our offerings and receive Our holy things and after that bereive His servants of their lives Can he be thus Pleas'd with our offerings unappear'd with us Hath he not promis'd that the time shall come Wherein the fruits of my restored wombe Shall make thee Father to a hopefull Sonne Can Heaven be false Or can these things be done When we are dead No no His holy breath Had spent in vaine if he had ment our death Recall thy needlesse feares Heaven cannot lye Although we saw his face we shall not dye So said they brake off their discourse and went He to the field and she into her Tent Thrice forty dayes not full compleate being come Within th' enclosure of her quickned wombe The babe began to spring and with his motion Confirm'd the faith and quickned the devotion Ofhis believing parents whose devout And heaven-ascending Orizans no doubt Were turn'd to thankes and heart-rejoycing praise To holy Hymnes and heavenly Roundelaies The child growes sturdy Every day gives strength Vnto his wombe fed limmes till at the length Th' apparant mother having past the date Of her accoumpt does onely now awaite The happy houre wherein she may obtaine Her greatest pleasure with her greatest paine When as the faire directresse of the night Had thrice three times repair'd her wained light Her wombe no longer able to retaine So great a guest betrai'd her to her paine And for the toilesome worke that she had done She found the wages of a new borne Sonne Samson she call'd his name The childe encreast And hourely suckt a blessing with the brest Daily his strength did double He began To grow in favour both with God and Man His well attended Infancie was blest With sweetnesse in his Childhood he exprest True seeds of Honour and his youth was crown'd With high and brave adventures which renown'd His honour'd name His courage was supplide With mighty strength His haughty spirit defide An hoast of men His power had the praise 'Bove all that were before or since his dayes And to conclude Heav'n never yet conjoin'd So strong a body with so stout a minde MEDITAT 6. HOw pretious were those blessed dayes wherein Soules never startled at the name of Sin When as the voyce of Death had never yet A mouth to open or to clame a debt When bashfull nakednesse forbare to call For needlesse skinns to cover Shame withall When as the fruit-encreasing earth obay'd The will of Man without the wound of Spaide Or helpe of Art When he that now remaines A cursed Captive to infernall chaines Sate singing Anthems in the heavenly Quire Among his fellow Angells When the Bryer The fruitlesse Bramble the fast growing weed And downie Thistle had as yet no seed When labour was not knowne and man did eate The earths faire fruits unearned with his sweate When wombes might have conceiv'd without the staine Of sinne and brought forth children without paine When Heaven could speake to mans unfrighted care Without the sense of sin-begotten feare How golden were those dayes How happy than Was the condition and the State of man But Man obay'd not And his proud desire Cing'd her bold feathers in forbidden fier But Man transgrest And now his freedome feeles A sudden change Sinne followes at his heeles The voice calls Adam But poore Adam flees And trembling hides his face behind the trees The voice whilere that ravisht with delight His joyfull eare does now alas affright His wounded conscience with amaze and wonder And what of late was musicke now is Thunder How have our sinnes abus'd us and betrai'd Our desperate soules What strangenesse have they made Betwixt the great Creator and the worke Of his owne hands How closely doe they lurke To our distempred soules and whisper feares And doubts into our frighted hearts and eares Our eyes cannot behold that glorious face Which is all life unruin'd in the place How is our natures chang'd That very breath Which gave us being is become our death Great God! O whither shall poore mortalls flie For comfort If they see thy face they dye And if thy life-restoring count'nance give Thy presence from us then we cannot live How necessary
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
horse and man in sunder In whose mixt blood his hands would oft embrue And where so ere they did but touch they slew Here 's no imployment for the Surgeons trade All wounds were mortall that his weapon made There 's none was left but dying or else dead And onely they that scap'd his fury fled The slaughter ended the proud victor past Through the afflicted land untill at last He comes to Iudah where he pitch'd his Tent At the rocke Etan There some time he spent He spent not much Till the Philistian band That found small comfort in their wasted land Came up to Iudah and there pitch'd not farre From Samsons Tent Their hands were arm'd to warre With that the men of Iudah strucke with feare To see so great an Armie straight drew neare To the sad Campe who after they had made Some signes of a continued peace they said What new designes have brought your royall band Vpon the borders of our peacefull land What strange adventures What disastrous weather Drove you this way What businesse brought you hether Let not my Lords be angry or conceive An evill against your Servants What we have Is yours The peacefull plenty of our land And we are yours and at your owne command Why to what purpose are you pleas'd to show us Your strength Why bring you thus an army to us Are not our yearly Tributes justly paid Have we not kept our vowes Have we delaid Our faithfull service or denied to doe it When you have pleas'd to call your servants to it Have we at any time upon your triall Shruncke from our plighted faith or prov'd disloyall If that proud Samson have abus'd your Land T is not our faults Alas we had no hand In his designes We lent him no reliefe No aid No we were partners in your griefe Where to the Philistines whose hopes relyde Vpon their faire assistance thus replyde Feare not yee men of Iudah Our intentions Are not to wrong your peace Your apprehensions Are too-too timerous Our designes are bent Against the common Foe whose hands have spent Our lavish blood and rob'd our wasted Land Of all her joyes T is hee our armed band Expects and followes Hee is cloysterd here Within your Quarters Let your faiths appeare Now in your loyall actions and convay The skulking Rebell to us that we may Revenge our blood which he hath wasted thus And doe to him as he hath done to us MEDITAT 16. IT was a sharpe revenge But was it just Shall one man suffer for another Must The Childrens teeth be set on edge because Their Fathers ate the grapes Are Heavens lawes So strict whose lips did with a promise tell That no such law should passe in Israel Because th' injurious Timnites trecherous hand Commits the fault must Samson scourge the land Sinne is a furious Plague and it infects The next inhabitant if he neglects The meanes t' avoid it T is not because he sinnes That thou art punisht No it then begins T' infect thy soule when thou a stander by Reproves it not or when thy carelesse eye Slights it as nothing If a sinne of mine Grieve not thy wounded soule it becomes thine Thinke yee that God commits the Sword of power Into the hands of Magistrates to scower And keepe it bright Or onely to advance His yet unknowne Authoritie Perchance The glorious Hilt and Scabberd make a show To serve his turne have it a blade or no He neither knowes nor cares Is this man fit T' obtaine so great an honor as to sit As Gods Lieutenant and to punish sinne Know leaden Magistrates and know agin Your Sword was given to draw and to be dyde In guilty blood not to be laid aside At the request of friends or for base feare Lest when your honor 's ended with the yeare Ye may be baffled t is not enough that you Finde bread be waight or that the waights be true T is not enough that every foule disorder Must be refer'd to your more wise Recorder The charge is given to you You must returne A faire account or else the Land must mourne You keepe your Swords too long a season in And God strikes us because you strike not sinne Y' are too remisse and want a Resolution Good Lawes lye dead for lacke of execution An Oath is growne so bold that it will laugh The easie Act to scorne Nay we can quaffe And reele with priviledge and wee can trample Vpon our shame shrunke cloakes by your example You are too dull Too great offences passe Vntoucht God loves no service from the Asse Rouze up O use the Spurre spare the Bridle God strikes because your Swords and You are idle Graunt Lord that every one may mend a fault And then our Magistrates may stand for nought SECT 17. ARGVMENT The faithlesse men of Iuda went To make him subject to their bands They bound him by his owne consent And brought him pris'ner to their hands SO said The men of Iudah whose base feare Taught them to open an obedient eare To their revengefull and unjust request Accept the trecherous motion and addrest Their slavish thoughts to put in execution The subject of their servile resolution With that three thousand of their ablest men Are soone imploy'd To the fierce Lyons den They come yet daring not approach too neare And sent this louder language to his eare Victorious Samson whose renowned facts Have made the world a Register of thy Acts Great Army of men the wonder of whose power Gives thee the title of a walking Tower Why hast thou thus betraid us to the hand Of the curs'd Philistines Thou know'st our Land Does owe it selfe to thee There 's none can clame So great an intrest in our hearts Thy name Thy highly honour'd name for ever beares A welcome Accent in our joyfull eares But now the times are dangerous and a band Of proud Philistians quarter in our land And for thy sake the tyranny of their tongues Hath newly threatned to revenge thy wrongs Vpon our peacefull lives Their lips have vow'd And sworne to salve their injuries with our blood Their jealous fury hollowes in our eares They 'l plague our land as thou hast plagued theirs If we refuse to doe their fierce command And bring not Samson prisoner to their hand Alas thou knowst our servile neckes must bow To their imperious Yoke Alas our vow Of loyalty is past If they bid doe We must or loose our lands and our life 's too Were but our lifes in hazard or if none Should feele the smart of death but wee alone Wee 'd turne thy Martyrs rather then obey'm Wee 'd dye with Samson sooner then betray'm But we have wifes and children that would be The subjects of their rage as well as wee Wherefore submit thy person and fulfill What we desire so much against our will Alas our griefes in equall poisure lye Yeeld and thou dyest Yeeld not and wee must dye Whereto sad Samson whose faire