chain'd To this sad Object with a full delight To see this flesh-and-blood-relenting sight With that the pris'ner turnd himselfe and prai'd So soft that none but heaven could heare and said My God my God Although my sinnes doe cry For greater vengeance yet thy gratious eye Is full of mercy O remember now The gentle promise and that sacred vow Thou mad'st to faithfull Abram and his seed O heare my wounded soule that has lesse need Of life then mercy Let thy tender eare Make good thy plentious promise now and heare See how thy cursed enemies prevaile Above my strength Behold how poore and fraile My native power is and wanting thee What is there Oh what is there Lord in me Nor is it I that suffer My desart May challenge greater vengeance if thou wert Extreme to punish Lord the wrong is thine The punishment is just and onely mine I am thy Champion Lord It is not me They strike at Through my sides they thrust at thee Against thy Glory 't is their Malice lies They aym'd at that when they put out these eyes Alas their blood bedabbl'd hands would flie On thee wert thou but cloth'd in flesh as I Revenge thy wrongs great God O let thy hand Redeeme thy suffring honour and this land Lend me thy power Renew my wasted strength That I may fight thy battells and at length Rescue thy Glory that my hands may doe That faithfull service they were borne unto Lend me thy power that I may restore Thy losse and I will never urge thee more Thus having ended both his armes he laid Vpon the pillours of the Hall and said Thus with the Philistines I resigne my breath Andlet my God finde Glory in my death And having spoke his yeelding body strain'd Vpon those Marble pillour that sustain'd The pondrous Roofe They crackt and with their fall Downe fell the Battlements and Roofe and all And with their ruines slaughter'd at a blow The whole Assembly They that were below Receiv'd their sudden deaths from those that fell From off the top whilst none was loft to tell The horrid shreekes that filld the spatious Hall Whose ruines were impartiall and slew all They fell and with an unexpected blow Gave every one his death and Buriall too Thus died our Samson whose brave death has won More honour then his honourd life had done Thus died our Conquerour whose latest breath Was crown'd with Conquest triumph'd over death Thus died our Samson whose last drop of blood Redeem'd heavens glory and his Kingdom 's good Thus died heavens Champion the earths bright Glory The heavenly subject of this sacred story And thus th' impartiall hand of death that gathers All to the Grave repos'd him with his fathers Whose name shall flourish and be still in prime In spight of ruine or the teeth of Time Whose fame shall last till heaven shall please to free This Earth from Sinne and Time shall cease to be MEDITAT 23. VVAges of sinne is death The day must come Wherein the equall hand of death must summe The severall Items of mans fading glory Into the easie Totall of one Story The browes that sweat for kingdomes and renowne To gloryfie their Temples with a Crowne At length grow cold and leave their honour'd name To flourish in th' uncertaine blast of fame This is the height that glorious mortalls can Attaine This is the highest pitch of Man The quilted Quarters of the Earths great Ball Whose unconfined limits were too small For his extreme Ambition to deserve Six foote of length and three of bredth must serve This is the highest pitch that Man can flie And after all his Triumph he must die Lives he in Wealth Does well deserved store Limit his wish that he can wish no more And does the fairest bounty of encrease Crowne him with plenty and his dayes with peace It is a right hand blessing But supplie Of wealth cannot secure him He must die Lives he in Pleasure Dóes perpetuall mirth Lend him a little Heaven upon his earth Meets he no sullen care no sudden losse To coole his joyes Breathes he without a crosse Wants he no pleasure that his want on eye Can crave or hope from fortune He must dye Lives he in Honour Hath his faire desart Obtain'd the freedome of his Princes heart Or may his more familiar hands disburse His liberall favours from the royall purse Alas his Honour cannot soare too high For palefac'd death to follow He must dye Lives he a Conqu'rour And doth heaven blesse His heart with spirit that spirit with successe Successe with Glory Glory with a name To live with the Eternity of Fame The progresse of his lasting fame may vye With time But yet the Conquerour must dye Great and good God Thou Lord of life and death In whom the Creature hath his being breath Teach me to under prize this life and I Shall finde my losse the easier when I dye So raise my feeble thoughts and dull desire That when these vaine and weary dayes expire I may discard my flesh with joy and quit My better part of this false earth and it Of some more sinne and for this Transitory And teadious life enjoy a life of Glory The end
THE HISTORIE OF SAMSON Written By FRA QVARLES LONDON Printed by M. F. for IOHN MARRIOTT in S. Dunstans Church-yard in Fleetstreet 1631. for the time but quickly leaves us to our former darknesse The overtaken Lanthorne is the true Friend which though it promise but a faint light yet it goes along with us as farre as it can towards our Journies end The offered Linke is the mercenary Friend which though it be ready enough to doe us service yet that service hath a servile relation to our bountie Sir in the middle ranke I finde you hating the first and scorning the last to whom in the height of my undissembled assection and unfained thankfulnes I commend my selfe and this booke to receive an equall censure from your uncorrupted judgement In the Bud it was yours it blossomd yours and now your favour able acceptance confirmes the fruit yours All I crave is that you would be pleased to interpret these my intentions to proceed from an ardent desire that hath long beene in labour to expresse the true affections of him That holds it an honor to honor you FRA QVARLES TO THE READER THE tyranny of my Affaires was never yet so imperious but I could steale some howers to my private Meditations the fruits of which stolne time I here present thee with in the History of Samson Wherein if thy extreme severity checke at any thing which thou conceivest may not stand with the majesty of this sacred Subject know that my intention was not to offend my brother The wisest of Kings inspired by the King of Wisedome thought it no detraction from the gravity of his Holy Proverbs to describe a Harlot like a Harlot Her whorish Attire her immodest Gesture her bold Countenance her flattring Tongue her lascivious Embraces her unchast Kisses her impudent Invitations If my descriptions in the like kinde offend I make no question but the validitie of my Warrant will give a reasonable satisfaction Hee that lifts not his feet high enough may easily stumble But on the contrary If any be whose worse then Sacrilegious mindes shall prophane our harmelesse intentions with wanton conceits to such I heartily wish a Procul ite Let none such looke farther then this Epistle at their owne perils If they doe let them put off their shooes for this is holy Ground Foule hands will muddle the clearest waters and base mindes will corrupt the purest Text If any offence be taken it is by way of stealth for there is none willingly given I write to Bees and not to Spiders They will suck pleasing hony from such flowers These may burst with their owne poyson But you whose well-seasond hearts are not distempered with either of these extremities but have the better rellish of a Sacred understanding draw neere and reade I Sing th' illustrious and renowned story Of mighty Samson The eternall glory Of his Heroicke acts His life His death Quicken my Muse with thy diviner breath Great God of Muses that my prosp'rous rimes May live and last to everlasting times That they unborne may in this sacred story Admire thy goodnes and advance thy glory THE HISTORIE OF SAMSON SECT 1. ARGVMENT A holy Angell doth salute The wife of Manoah and inlarge Her barren wombe with promis'd fruit Of both their loynes The Angels charge WIthin the Tents of Zorah dwelt a man Of Iacobs seed and of the Tribe of Dan Knowne by the name of Manoah to whom Heaven had deni'd the treasure of the wombe His Wife was barren And her prayres could not Remove that great reproach or clense that blot Which on her fruitless name appear'd so foule Not to encrease the Tribe of Dan one soule Long had she doubtles stroven with heaven by prayres Made strong with teares and sighes Hopes and despaires No doubt had often tortur'd her desire Vpon a Rock compos'd of frost and fire But Heaven was pleas'd to turne His deafned eares Against those prayres made strong with sighes and teares She often praid but prayres could not obtaine Alas she pray'd she wept she sigh'd in vaine She pray'd no doubt but prayres could finde no roome They proov'd alas as barren as her wombe Vpon a time when her unanswer'd prayre Had now given just occasion of despaire Even when her bedrid faith was growne so fraile That very Hope grew heartlesse to prevaile Appear'dan Angel to her In his face Terrour and sweetnesse labour'd for the place Sometimes his Sun-bright eyes would shine so fierce As if their pointed beames would even pierce Her soule and strike th' amaz'd beholder dead Sometimes their glory would dispeirce and spread More easie flames and like the Starre that stood O're Bethlem promise and portend some good Mixt was his bright aspect as if his breath Had equall errands both of life and death Glory and Mildnesse seemed to contend In his fayre eyes so long till in the end In glorious mildnesse and in milder glory He thus salutes her with this pleasing story Woman Heaven greets thee well Rise up and feare not Forbeare thy faithlesse tremblings I appeare not Clad in the vestments of consuming fire Cheare up I have no warrant to enquire Into thy sinnes I have no Vyals here Nor dreadfull Thunderbolts to make thee feare I have no plagues t' inflict nor is my breath Charg'd with destruction or my hand with death No no cheare up I come not to destroy I come to bring thee tydings of great joy Rowze up thy dull beliefe for I appeare To exercise thy Faith and not thy Feare The Guide and great Creator of all things Chiefe Lord of Lords and supreame King of Kings To whom an Host of men are but a swarme Of murmring Gnats whose high prevayling arme Can crush ten thousand worlds and at one blow Can strike the earth to nothing and ore-throw The Losts of Heaven he that hath the keyes Of wombes to shut and ope them when he please He that can all things that he will this day Is pleas'd to take thy long reproach away Behold thy wombe's inlarg'd and thy desires Shall finde successe Before long time expires Thou shalt conceive Eretwise five months be runne Be thou the joyfull mother ef a sonne But see thy wary palate doe forbeare The juyce of the bewitching Grape Beware Lest thy desires tempt thy lips to wine Which must be faithfull strangers to the Vine Strong drinke thou must not tast and all such meate The Law proclaimes uncleane refraine to eate And when the fruit of thy restored wombe Shall see the light take heed no Rasor come Vpon his fruitfull head For from his birth Soone as the wombe entrusts him on the earth The child shall be a Nazarite to God By whose appointment he shall prove a Rod To scourge the proud Philistians and recall Poore suffring Israel from their slavish thrall MEDITAT 1. HOw impudent is Nature to account Those acts her owne that doe so farre surmount Her easie reach How purblind are those eyes Of stupid mortalls that
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
There in the common Prison did they lay Distressed Samson who obtain'd no meate But what he purchas'd with his painfull sweate For every day they urg'd him to fulfill His twelve howres taske at the laborious Mill And when his wasted strength began to tyre They 'd quicken his bare sides with whips of Wire Fill'd was the towne with Ioy and Triumph All From the high-Prince to th' Cobbler on the stall Kept holy-day whilest every voice became Hoarse as the Trumpe of newes-divulgeing fame All tongues were fill'd with shouts And every care Was growne impatient of the whisperer So generall was their Triumph their Applause That children shouted ere they knew a cause The better sort betooke them to their knees Dagon must worship'd be Dagon that frees Both Sea and Land Dagon that did subdue Our common foe Dagon must have his due Dagon must have his praise must have his prize Dagon must have his holy Sacrifice Dagon has brought to our victorious hand Proud Samson Dagon has redeem'd our land We call to Dagon and our Dagon heares Our groanes are come to holy Dagons eares To Dagon all renowne and Glory be Where is there such another God as Hee MEDITAT 22. HOw is our story chang'd O more then strange Effects of so small time O sudden change Is this that holy Nazarite for whom Heaven shew'd a Miracle on the barren wombe Is this that holy Thing againe whose birth Angells must quit their thrones and visit Earth Is this that blessed Infant that began To grow in favour so with God and man What is this hee who strengthned by heavens hand Was borne a Champion to redeeme the Land Is this the man whose courage did contest With a fierce Lyon grappling brest to brest And in a twinckling tore him quite in sunder Is this that Conquerer whose Arme did thunder Vpon the men of Askalon the power Of whose bent fist slew thirty in an hower Is this that daring Conquerour whose hand Thrasht the proud Philistines in their wasted land And was this He that with the help of none Destroy'd a thousand with a silly Bone Or He whose wrists being bound together did Breake Cordes like flax and double Ropes like thrid Is this the man whose hands unhing'd those Gates And barethem thence with pillers barres Grates And is he turn'd a Mill-horse now and blinde Must this great Conquerour be forc'd to grinde For bread and water Must this Heroe spend His latter times in drudgery Must he end His weary dayes in darkenesse Must his hyer Be knotted cords and torturing whips of wyer Where heaven withdrawes the creatures power shakes What miserie 's wanting there where God for sakes Had Samson not abus'd his borrow'd power Samson had still remain'd a Conquerour The Philistines did act his part No doubt His eyes offended and they pluck'd them out Heaven will be just He punishes a sin Oft in the member that he findes it in When faithlesse Zacharias did become Too curious his lips were strucken dumbe Samson whose lustfull view did overprize Vnlawfull beautye's punisht in his eyes Those flaming eyes seduc'd his wanton minde To act a sinne Those eyes are stricken blinde The beauty he invaded did invade him And that faire tongue that blest him so betrayd him That strength intemperate lust imploy'd so ill Is now a driving the laborious Mill Those naked sides so pleas'd with lusts desire Are now as naked lasht with whips of wire Lord shouldst thou punish every part in me That does offend what member would be free Each member acts his part They never lin Vntill they joyne and make a Body ' of sin Make sinne my burthen Let it never please me And thou hast promis'd when I come to ease me SECT 23. ARGVMENT They make a feast And then to crowne Their mirth blind Samson is brought thither He pulls the mighty Pillers downe The Building falls All slaine together THus when the vulgar Triumph which does last But seldome longer then the newes was past And Dagons holy Altars had surceast To breath their idle fumes they call'd a feast A common Feast whose bounty did bewray A common joy to gratulate the day Whereto the Princes under whose command Each province was in their divided land Whereto the Lords Leiutenants and all those To whom the supreme Rulers did repose An under-trust whereto the better sort Ofgentry and of Commons did resort With mirth and jolly tryumph to allay Their sorrowes and to solemnize the day Into the common Hall they come The Hall Was large and faire Her arched roofe was all Builded with massie stone and over lai'd With pond'rous Lead Two sturdy Pillers stai'd Her mighty Rafters up whereon relied The weighty burthen of her lofty pride When lusty diet and the frollicke cup Had rouz'd and rais'd their quickned spirits up And brave triumphing Bacchus had displaid His conquering coullers in their cheeks they said Call Samson forth He must not worke to day T is a boone feast Wee 'le give him leave to play Does he grinde bravely Does our Millhorse sweat Let him lacke nothing What he wants in meate Supply in lashes He is strong and stout And with his breath can drive the Mill about He workes too hard we feare Goe downe and free him Say that his Mistresse Delila would see him The sight of him will take our howers short Goe fetch him then to make our Honours sport Bid him provide some Riddles Let him bring Some songs of Triumph He that 's blinde may sing With better boldenesse Bid him never doubt To please What matter though his eyes be out T is no dishonour that he cannot see Tell him the God of Lov 's as blinde as hee With that they brought poore Samson to the Hall And as he past he gtopes to finde the wall His pace was slow His feet were lifted high Each tongue would taunt him Every scornefull eye Was filld with laughter Some would cry aloud Hee walkes in state His Lordship is growne proud Some bid his Honour Haile whilst others cast Reproachfull termes upon him as he past Some would salute him fairely and embrace His wounded sides then spit upon his face Others would cry For shame forbeare t' abuse The high and great Redeemer of the Iewes Some gibe and floute him with their taunts and quips Whilst others flurt him on the starting lips With that poore Samson whose abundant griefe Not finding hopes of comfort or releife Resolv'd for patience Turning round he made Some shift to feele his Keeper out and said Good Sir my painefull labour in the Mill Hath made me bold although against my will To crave some little rest If you will please To let the Pillour but afford some ease To my worne limmes your mercy should relieve A soule that has no more but thankes to give The keeper yeelded Now the Hall was filld With Princes and their People that beheld Abused Samson whilst the Roofe retain'd A leash of thousands more whose eyes were