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
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
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
and sad Hope makes it nimble for a needlesse tryall Feare makes it too impatient of deniall Great Lord of humane soules O thou that art The onely true refiner of the heart Whose hands created all things perfect good What canst thou now expect of flesh and blood How are our leprous Soules put out of fashion How are our Wills subjected to our passion How is thy glorious Image soil'd defac'd And stain'd with sinne How are our thoughts displac'd How wavering are our hopes turn'd here and there With every blast How carnall is our feare Where needs no feare we start at every shade But feare not where we ought to be affraid Great God! If thou wilt please but to refine Our hearts and reconforme our wills to thine Thou 'lt take a pleasure in us and poore we Should finde as infinite delight in Thee Our doubts would cease our feares would all remove And all our passions would turne Ioy and Love Till then expect for nothing that is good Remember Lord we are but Flesh and Blood SECT 13. ARGVMENT The Philistines by her advice Expound the Riddle Samson kild Thirty Philistians in a trice Forsakes his Bride His Bed's defilde NO sooner was the Brides attentive eares Resolv'd and pleas'd but her impetuous feares Calls in the Bridemen and to them betraid The secret of the Riddle thus and said You Sonnes of Thunder T was not the loud noise Of your provoking threats nor the soft voice Of my prevailing feares that thus addrest My yeelding heart to grant your forc'd request Your language needed not have bin so rough To speake too much when lesse had bin enough Your speech at first was hony in mine eare At length it prov'd a Lyon and did teare My wounded soule It sought to force me to What your entreaties were more apt to doe Know then to keepe your lingring eares no longer From what ye long to heare There 's nothing stronger Then a fierce Lyon Nothing more can greet Your pleased palats with a greater sweet Then Hony But more fully to expound In a dead Lyon there was Hony found Now when the Sun was welking in the West Whose fall determines both the day and Feast The hopefull Bridegroome he whose smiling brow Assur'd his hopes a speedy Conquest now Euen thirsting for victorious Tryumph brake The crafty silence of his lips and spake The time is come whose latest hower ends Our nuptiall Feast and fairely recommends The wreathe of Conquest to the victors brow Say Is the Riddle read Expound it now And for your paines these hands shall soone resigne Your conquerd prize If not The prize is mine With that they joyn'd their whispring heads and made A Speaker who in louder language said Of all the sweets that ere were knowne There 's none so pleasing be As those rare dainties which doe crowne The labour of the Bee Of all the Creatures in the field That ever man set eye on There 's none whose power doth not yeeld Vnto the stronger Lyon Whereto th' offended Challenger whose eye Proclaim'd a quicke Revenge made this reply No Hony's sweeter then a womans tongue And when she list Lyons are not so strong How thrice accurs'd are they that doe fulfill The lewd desiers of a woman's will How more accurs'd is he that doth impart His bosome secrets to a womans heart They plead like Angells and like Crocadiles Kill with their teares They murther with their smiles How weake a thing is woman Nay how weake Is senslesse Man that will be urg'd to breake His counsells in her eare that hath no power To make secure a secret for an hower No victors no Had not a womans minde Bin faithlesse and unconstant as the winde My Riddle had till now a Riddle bin You might have mus'd and mist and mus'd agin When the next day had heav'd his golden head From the soft pillow of his Seagreene bed And with his rising glory had possest The spatious borders of th' enlightned East Samson arose and in a rage went downe By heaven directed to a neighbring towne His choller was inflam'd and from his eye The sudden flashes of his wrath did flie Palenesse was in his cheekes and from his breath There flew the fierce Embassadours of death He heav'd his hand and where it fell it slew He spent and still his forces would renew His quick-redoubled blowes fell thicke as thunder And whom he tooke alive he tore in sunder His arme nere mist And often at a blow He made a Widow and an Orphane too Here it divides the Father from the child The husband from his wife there it dispoild The friend on 's friend the sister of her brother And oft with one man he would thrash another Where never was he made a little flood And where there was no kin he joyn'd in blood Wherein his ruthlesse hands he did imbrue Thrice ten before he scarce could breathe he slue Their upper Garments which he tooke away Were all the spoiles the victor had that day Where with he quit the wagers that he lost Paying Philistians with Philistians cost And thus at length with blood he did asswage But yet not quench the fier of his rage For now the thought of his disloyall wife In his sad soule renew'd a second strife From whom for feare his fury should recoile He thought most fit t' absent himselfe awhile Vnto his fathers Tent he now return'd Where his divided passion rag'd and mourn'd In part he mourned and he rag'd in part To see so faire a face so false a heart But marke the mischiefe that his absence brings His bed's defiled and the nuptiall strings Are stretcht and crackt A second love doth smother The first And she is wedded to another MEDITAT 13. VVAs this that wombe the Angell did enlarge From barrennesse And gave so strickt a charge Was this that wombe that must not be defil'd With uncleane meates lest it pollute the child Is this the Nazarite May a Nazarite then Embrue and paddle in the bloods of men Or may their vowes be so dispens'd withall That they who scarce may see a funerall Whose holy footsteps must beware to tread Vpon or touch the carkasse of the dead May these revenge their wrongs by blood May these Have power to Kill and murther where they please T is true A holy Nazarite is forbid To doe such things as this our Nazarite did He may not touch the bodies of the dead Without pollution much lesse may shed The blood of man or touch it being spilt Without the danger of a double guilt But who art thou that art an undertaker To question with or pleade against thy Maker May not that God that gave thee thy creation Turne thee to nothing by his dispensation He that hath made the Sabbath and commands It shall be kept with unpolluted hands Yet if he please to countermand agin Man may securely labour and not sin A Nazarite is not allow'd to shed The blood of man or once to
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
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