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
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
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
To give a satisfaction answerable To her unbounded wishes leaves a thrist Of reenjoyment greater then the first Lord When our fruitlesse fallowes are growne cold And out of heart we can inrich the mould With a new heate we can restore againe Her weakned soile and make it apt for graine And wilt thou suffer our faint soules to lie Thus unmanur'd that is thy Husbandrie They beare no other bulke but idle weedes Alas they have no heart no heate Thy seedes Are cast away untill thou please t' inspire New strength and quench them with thy sacred fire Stirre thou my Fallowes and enrich my mold And they shall bring thee ' increase a hundred fold SECT 21. ARGVMENT False Delila accosts her Lover Her lips endeavour to entice His gentle nature to discover His strength Samson deceives her thrice SOone as occasion lent our Champions eare To Delila which could not choose but heare If Delila but whisper'd she whose wiles Were neatly baited with her simple smiles Accosted Samson Her alluring hand Sometimes would stroke his Temples sometime span'd His brawny arme Sometimes would gently gripe His sinewy wrest Another while would wipe His sweating browes Her wanton fingers plai'd Sometimes with his faire locks somtimes would brai'd His long dishevell'd haire her eyes one while Would steale a glance upon his eyes and smile And then her crafty lips would speake then smother Her broken speech and then begin another At last as if a sudden thought had brake From the faire prison of her lips she spake How poore a Grisle is this arme of mine Me thinkes 't is nothing in respect of thine Of having Wealth will rouze thy heart lesse friends Make thee a potent Master of thy Ends 'T will bring thee honour make thy suites at Law Prosper at will and keepe thy Foes in awe Art thou Ambitious He will kindle fire In thy proud thoughts and make thy thoughts aspire Hee 'l come and teach thy honour how to scorne Thy old acquaintance whom thou hast outworne Hee 'l teach thee how to Lord it and advance Thy servants fortunes with thy Countenance Wouldst thou enjoy the pleasures of the flesh Hee 'l bring thee wanton Ladyes to refresh Thy drooping soule Hee 'l teach thine eyes to wander Instruct thee how to wooe Hee 'l be thy Pander Hee 'l fill thy amorous soule with the sweet passion Of powerfull Love Hee 'l give thee dispensation To sinne at pleasure He will make thee Slave To thy owne thoughts Hee 'l make thee beg and crave To be a drudge Hee 'l make thy trecherous breath Destroy thee and betray thee to thy death Lord if our Father Adam could not stay In his upright perfection one poore day How can it be expected we have power To hold out Seige one scruple of an hower Our Armes are bound with too unequall bands We cannot strive We cannot loose our hands Great Nazarite awake and looke upon us Make hast to helpe The Philistines are on us SECT 22. ARGVMENT She sues againe Samson replies The very truth Her lips betray him They binde him They put out his eyes And to the prison they convay him VVIth that the wanton whose distrustfull eye Was fixt upon reward made this replie Had the deniall of my poore request Proceeded from th' inexorable brest Of one whose open hatred sought t' endanger My haunted life Or had it bin a stranger That wanted so much nature to deny The doing of a common curtesie Nay had it bin a friend that had deceiv'd me An ordinary friend It nere had griev'd me But thou even thou my bosome friend that art The onely joy of my deceived heart Nay thou whose hony-dropping lips soloften Did plead thy undissembled love and soften My deare affection which could never yeeld To easier termes by thee to be beguild How often hast thou mockt my slender suite With forged falshoods Hadst thou but bin mute I nere had hop'd But being fairely led Towards my prompt desires which were fed With my false hopes and thy false-hearted tongue And then beguilde I hold it as a wronge How canst thou say thou lov'st me How can I Thinke but thou hat'st me when thy lips deny So poore a Suite Alas my fond desire Had slak'd had not deniall blowne the fire Grant then at last and let thy open brest Shew that thou lov'st me ' and grant my faire request Speake or speake not thy Delila shall give ore To urge her lips shall never urge thee more To whom the yeelding lover thus betrai'd His heart being tortur'd unto death and said My deare my Delila I cannot stand Against so sweet a pleader In thy hand I here entrust and to thy brest impart Thy Samsons life and secrets of his heart Know then my Delila that I was borne A Nazarite These locks were never shorne No Raisor yet came ere upon my crowne There lies my strength with thē my strength is gone Were they but shaven my Delila O then Thy Samson should be weake as other men No sooner had he spoken but he spred His body on the floore his drowzy head He pillow'd on her lap untill at last He fell into a sleepe and being fast She clipt his locks from off his carelesse head And beckning the Philistians in she said Samson awake Take strength and courage on thee Samson arise The Philistines are on thee Even as a Dove whose wings are clipt for flying Flutters her idle stumps and still relying Vpon her wonted refuge strives in vaine To quit her life from danger and attaine The freedome of her ayre-dividing plumes She struggles often and she oft presumes To take the sanctuary of the open fields But finding that her hopes are vaine she yeelds Even so poore Samson frighted at the sound That rowz'd him from his rest forsooke the ground Perceiving the Philistians there at hand To take him pris'ner he began to stand Vpon his wonted Guarde His threatning breath Brings forth the prologue to their following death He rowz'd himselfe and like a Lyon shooke His drowzy limmes and with a cloudy looke Fore-telling boystrous and tempestious weather Defied each one defied them all together Now when he came to grapple he upheav'd His mighty hand but now alas bereav'd Of wonted power that confounding arme That could no lesse then murther did no harme Blow was exchang'd for blow and wound for wound He that of late disdained to give ground Flies backe apace who lately stain'd the field With conquer'd blood does now begin to yeeld He that of late brake twisted Ropes in twaine Is bound with Pack thred He that did disdaine To feare the power of an Armed Band Can now walke prisoner in a single hand Thus have the trecherous Philistines betray'd Poore captive Samson Samson now obay'd Those glowing eyes that whitled death about Where ere they view'd their cursed hands put out They led him pris'ner and convai'd him downe To strong-wall'd Azza that Philistian towne Whose gates his shoulders lately bore away