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Reject not then what offer'd means; who knows
But God hath set before us, to return thee
Home to thy country and his sacred house,
Where thou may'st bring thy offerings, to avert
His further ire, with prayers and vows renew'd?

Sams. His pardon I implore; but as for life,
To what end should I seek it? when in strength
All mortals I excell'd, and great in hopes
With youthful courage, and magnanimous thoughts,
Of birth from Heaven foretold, and high exploits,
Full of divine instinct, after some proof
Of acts indeed heroic, far beyond
The sons of Anak, famous now and blaz'd,
Fearless of danger, like a petty god

I walk'd about admir'd of all, and dreaded

On hostile ground, none daring my affront.
Then swoll'n with pride into the snare I fell

Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains,
Soften'd with pleasure and voluptuous life.
At length to lay my head and hallow'd pledge
Of all my strength in the lascivious lap
Of a deceitful concubine, who shore me
Like a tame wether, all my precious fleece,
Then turn'd me out ridiculous, despoil'd,

Shaven, and disarm'd among mine enemies.

Chor. Desire of wine and all delicious drinks,

Which many a famous warrior overturns,

Thou couldst repress; nor did the dancing ruby
Sparkling, out-pour'd, the flavour, or the smell,
Or taste that cheers the heart of gods or men,
Allure thee from the cool crystalline stream.
Sams. Wherever fountain or fresh current flow'd
Against the eastern ray, translucent, pure
With touch ethereal of Heaven's fiery rod,
I drank, from the clear milky juice allaying
Thirst, and refresh'd: nor envied them the grape
Whose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes.
Chor. O madness, to think use of strongest wines
And strongest drinks our chief support of health,
When God with these forbidd'n made choice to rear
His mighty champion, strong above compare,
Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.
Sams. But what avail'd this temperance,
complete

Against another object more enticing?
What boots it at one gate to make defence,
And at another to let in the foe,

Effeminately vanquish'd? by which means,

After the brunt of battle, can as easy
Cause light again within thy eyes to spring,
Wherewith to serve him better than thou hast ;
And I persuade me so; why else this strength
Miraculous yet remaining in those locks?
His might continues in thee not for nought,
Nor shall his wonderous gifts be frustrate thus.

Sams. All otherwise to me my thoughts portend,
That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light,
Nor the other light of life continue long,
But yield to double darkness nigh at hand :
So much I feel my genial spirits droop,
My hopes all flat, Nature within me seems
In all her functions weary of herself;
My race of glory run, and race of shame,
And I shall shortly be with them that rest. [ceed
Man. Believe not these suggestions, which pro-
From anguish of the mind and humours black,
That mingle with thy fancy. I however
Must not omit a father's timely care
To prosecute the means of thy deliverance
By ransom, or how else: meanwhile be calm,
And healing words from these thy friends admit.
[Exit.]
Sams. O that torment should not be confin'd
To the body's wounds and sores,
With maladies innumerable

In heart, head, breast, and reins;
But must secret passage find
To the inmost mind,

There exercise all his fierce accidents,
And on her purest spirits prey,
As on entrails, joints, and limbs,
With answerable pains, but more intense,
Though void of corporal sense.

My griefs not only pain me
As a lingering disease,

But, finding no redress, ferment and rage;
Nor less than wounds immedicable
Rankle, and fester, and gangrene,

To black mortification.

Now blind, dishearten'd, sham'd, dishonour'd, quell'd,

To what can I be useful, wherein serve

My nation, and the work from Heaven impos'd,
But to sit idle on the household hearth,
A burdenous drone; to visitants a gaze,
Or pitied object, these redundant locks
Robustious to no purpose clustering down,
Vain monument of strength; till length of years
And sedentary numbness craze my limbs
To a contemptible old age obscure?

Here rather let me drudge, and earn my bread;
Till vermin, or the draff of servile food,
Consume me, and oft-invocated death

Hasten the welcome end of all my pains.

Dire inflammation, which no cooling herb
Or med'cinal liquor can assuage,
Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp.
Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er

To death's benumbing opium as my only cure:
Thence faintings, swoonings of despair,
And sense of Heaven's desertion.

I was his nurseling once, and choice delight, His destin'd from the womb,

Promis'd by heavenly message twice descending.
Under his special eye

Abstemious I grew up, and thriv'd amain;
He led me on to mightiest deeds,
Above the nerve of mortal arm,
Against the uncircumcis'd, our enemies :
But now hath cast me off as never known,
And to those cruel enemies,

Whom I by his appointment had provok'd,
Left me all helpless, with the irreparable loss

that gift

Which was expressly given thee to annoy them?
Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle,
Inglorious, unemploy'd, with age outworn.
But God, who caus'd a fountain at thy prayer
From the dry ground to spring, thy thirst to allay

The subject of their cruelty or scorn.
Nor am I in the list of them that hope;
Hopeless are all my evils, all remediless :
This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard,
No long petition, speedy death,

The close of all my miseries, and the balm.

Chor. Many are the sayings of the wise, In ancient and in modern books inroll'd, Extolling patience as the truest fortitude; And to the bearing well of all calamities, All chances incidents to man's frail life, Consolatories writ

With studied argument, and much persuasion sought |
Lenient of grief and anxious thought:

But with the afflicted in his pangs their sound
Little prevails, or rather seems a tune

Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint;
Unless he feel within

Some source of consolation from above,

Secret refreshings, that repair his strength,
And fainting spirits uphold.

God of our fathers, what is man!

That thou towards him with hand so various,
Or might I say contrarious,

Temper'st thy providence through his short course,
Not evenly, as thou rul'st

The angelic orders, and inferior creatures mute,
Irrational and brute.

Nor do I name of men the common rout,
That, wandering loose about,

Grow up and perish, as the summer-fly,
Heads without name no more remember'd;
But such as thou hast solemnly elected,
With gifts and graces eminently adorn'd,
To some great work, thy glory,

And people's safety, which in part they effect:
Yet toward these thus dignified, thou oft,
Amidst their height of noon,

Changest thy countenance, and thy hand, with no regard

Of highest favours past

From thee on them, or them to thee of service.
Nor only dost degrade them, or remit

To life obscur'd, which were a fair dismission,
But throw'st them lower than thou didst exalt them
high,

Unseemly falls in human eye,

Too grievous for the trespass or omission;
Oft leav'st them to the hostile sword

Of heathen and profane, their carcasses

To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captív'd;

Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times,
And condemnation of the ingrateful multitude.
If these they 'scape, perhaps in poverty

With sickness and disease thou bow'st them down,
Painful diseases and deform'd

In crude old age;

Though not disordinate, yet causeless suffering
The punishment of dissolute days: in fine,
Just, or unjust, alike seem miserable,
For oft alike both come to evil end.

So deal not with this once thy glorious champion,
The image of thy strength, and mighty minister.
What do I beg? how hast thou dealt already?
Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn
His labours, for thou canst, to peaceful end. -
But who is this, what thing of sea or land?
Female of sex it seems,

That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay,
Comes this way sailing

Like a stately ship

Of Tarsus, bound for the isles

Of Javan or Gadire

With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,
Sails fill'd, and streamers waving,

Courted by all the winds that hold them play,

An amber scent of odorous perfume
Her harbinger, a damsel train behind;
Some rich Philistian matron she may seem;
And now at nearer view, no other certain
Than Dalila thy wife.

[near the Sams. My wife! my traitress: let her not com Chor. Yet on she moves, now stands and thee fix'd,

Ábout to have spoke; but now, with head declin
Like a fair flower surcharg'd with dew, she weeps
And words address'd seem into tears dissolv'd,
Wetting the borders of her silken veil :
But now again she makes address to speak.

[Enter DALILA.]

Dal. With doubtful feet and wavering resolution I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson, Which to have merited, without excuse,

I cannot but acknowledge; yet, if tears
May expiate, (though the fact more evil drew
In the perverse event than I foresaw,)
My penance hath not slacken'd, though my pani
No way assur'd. But conjugal affection,
Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt,
Hath led me on, desirous to behold
Once more thy face, and know of thy estate,
If aught in my ability may serve

To lighten what thou suffer'st, and appease
Thy mind with what amends is in my power,
Though late, yet in some part to recompense
My rash, but more unfortunate, misdeed.

Sams. Out, out, hyæna! these are thy wonted ans
And arts of every woman false like thee,
To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray,
Then as repentant to submit, beseech,
And reconcilement move with feign'd remorse,
Confess, and promise wonders in her change;
Not truly penitent, but chief to try

Her husband, how far urg'd his patience bears,
His virtue or weakness which way to assail:
Then with more cautious and instructed skill
Again transgresses, and again submits;
That wisest and best men, full oft beguil'd,
With goodness principled not to reject
The penitent, but ever to forgive,
Are drawn to wear out miserable days,
Entangled with a poisonous bosom snake,
If not by quick destruction soon cut off,
As I by thee, to ages an example.

Dal. Yet hear me, Samson; not that I endeavou
To lessen or extenuate my offence,
But that on the other side, if it be weigh'd
By itself, with aggravations not surcharg'd,
Or else with just allowance counterpois'd,
I may, if possible, thy pardon find
The easier towards me, or thy hatred less.
First, granting, as I do, it was a weakness
In me, but incident to all our sex,
Curiosity, inquisitive, impórtune,
Of secrets, then with like infirmity
To publish them, both common female faults:
Was it not weakness also to make known
For importunity, that is, for nought,
Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety?
To what I did thou show'd'st me first the way.
But I to enemies reveal'd, and should not:
Nor should'st thou have trusted that to woman's

May ever tend about thee to old age,
With all things grateful cheer'd, and so supplied,
That, what by me thou hast lost, thou least shalt

miss.

[trains,

Sams. No, no; of my condition take no care; It fits not; thou and I long since are twain; Nor think me so unwary or accurs'd, To bring my feet again into the snare Where once I have been caught: I know thy Though dearly to my cost, thy gins, and toils; Thy fair enchanted cup, and warbling charms, No more on me have power; their force is null'd; So much of adder's wisdom I have learn'd, To fence my ear against thy sorceries.

If in my flower of youth and strength, when all men Lov'd, honour'd, fear'd me, thou alone could'st hate me

Thy husband, slight me, sell me, and forego me;
How wouldst thou use me now, blind, and thereby
Deceivable, in most things as a child

Helpless, thence easily contemn'd and scorn'd,
And last neglected? How would'st thou insult,
When I must live uxurious to thy will
In perfect thraldom, how again betray me,
Bearing my words and doings to the lords
To gloss upon, and, censuring, frown or smile?
This jail I count the house of liberty
To thine, whose doors my feet shall never enter.
Dal. Let me approach at least, and touch thy
hand.

[wake
Sams. Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance
My sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint.
At distance I forgive thee; go with that;
Bewail thy falsehood, and the pious works
It hath brought forth to make thee memorable
Among illustrious women, faithful wives!
Cherish thy hasten'd widowhood with the gold
Of matrimonial treason! so farewell.

Dal. I see thou art implacable, more deaf To prayers, than winds and seas; yet winds to seas Are reconcil'd at length, and sea to shore : Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages, Eternal tempest, never to be calm'd. Why do I humble thus myself, and, suing For peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate? Bid go with evil omen, and the brand Of infamy upon my name denounc'd? To mix with thy concernments I desist Henceforth, nor too much disapprove my own. Fame, if not double-fac'd, is double-mouth'd, And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds; On both his wings, one black, the other white, Bears greatest names in his wild aery flight. My name perhaps among the circumcis'd In Dan, in Judah, and the bordering tribes, To all posterity may stand defam'd, With malediction mention'd, and the blot Of falsehood most unconjugal traduc'd. But in my country, where I most desire, In Ecron, Gaza, Asdod, and in Gath, I shall be nam'd among the famousest Of women, sung at solemn festivals, Living and dead recorded, who, to save Her country from a fierce destroyer, chose Above the faith of wedlock-bands; my tomb With odours visited and annual flowers; Not less renown'd than in mount Ephraim Jael, who with hospitable guile

Smote Sisera sleeping, through the temples nail'd. Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoy

I leave him to his lot, and like my own.
Chor. She's gone, a manifest serpent by her st
Discover'd in the end, till now conceal'd.
Sams. So let her go; God sent her to debase m
And aggravate my folly, who committed
To such a viper his most sacred trust
Of secresy, my safety, and my life.

[powe

Chor. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath stran After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd, nor can be easily Repuls'd, without much inward passion felt And secret sting of amorous remorse.

Sams. Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end Not wedlock-treachery endangering life.

Chor. It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit,
Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit,
That woman's love can win, or long inherit;
But what it is, hard is to say,
Harder to hit,

(Which way soever men refer it,)
Much like thy riddle, Samson, in one day
Or seven, though one should musing sit.

If any of these, or all, the Timnian bride
Had not so soon preferr'd

Thy paranymph, worthless to thee compar'd,
Successor in thy bed,

Nor both so loosely disallied

Their nuptials, nor this last so treacherous
Had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head.
Is it for that such outward ornament
Was lavish'd on their sex, that inward gifts
Were left for haste unfinish'd, judgment scant,
Capacity not rais'd to apprehend

Or value what is best

In choice, but oftest to affect the wrong?
Or was too much of self-love mix'd,
Of constancy no root infix'd,

That either they love nothing, or not long?
Whate'er it be, to wisest men and best
Seeming at first all heavenly under virgin veil,
Soft, modest, meek, demure,

Once join'd, the contrary she proves, a thorn
Intestine, far within defensive arms
A cleaving mischief, in his way to virtue
Adverse and turbulent, or by her charms
Draws him awry enslav'd

With dotage, and his sense deprav'd
To folly and shameful deeds which ruin ends.
What pilot so expert but needs must wreck
Imbark'd with such a steers-mate at the helm?
Favour'd of Heaven, who finds
One virtuous, rarely found,

That in domestic good combines :
Happy that house! his way to peace is smooth:
But virtue, which breaks through all opposition,
And all temptation can remove,

Most shines, and most is accceptable above.

Therefore God's universal law

Gave to the man despotic power

Over his female in due awe,

Nor from that right to part an hour,
Smile she or lour:

So shall he least confusion draw
On his whole life, not sway'd
By female usurpation, or dismay'd.
But had we best retire? I see a storm.