But I God's counsel have not kept, his holy fecret
Presumptuously have publifh'd, impiously,
Weakly at least, and shamefully: A Sin
That Gentiles in their Parables condemn
To their abyfs and horrid pains confin'd.
Man. Be penitent and for thy fault contrite,
But act not in thy own affliction, Son;
Repent the fin, but if the punishment
Thou canft avoid, felf-preservation bids;
Or th' execution leave to high difpofal,
And let another hand, not thine, exact
Thy penal forfeit from thy felf; perhaps
God will relent, and quit thee all his debt;
Who ever more approves and more accepts
(Beft pleas'd with humble and filial fubmiflion)
Him who imploring mercy fues for life,
Than who felf-rigorous chufes death as due,
Which argues over-just, and self-displeas'd
For felf-offence, more than for God offended.
Reject not then what offer'd means, who knows
But God hath fet before us, to return thee..
Home to thy country and his Sacred house,
Where thou may'ft bring thy off'rings, to avert
His farther ire, with pray'rs and vows renew'd.
Samf. His pardon I implore; but as for life,
To what end fhould I seek it? when in strength
All mortals I excell'd, and great in hopes t
With youthful courage and magnanimous thoughts
Of birth from Heav'n foretold and high exploits,
Full of divine instinct, after fome proof
Of Acts indeed heroick, far beyond
The Sons of Anack, 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 fwoll'n with pride into the fnare I fell
Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains,
Softn'd with pleasure and voluptuous life;
At length to lay my head and hollow pledge
Of all my strength in the lascivious lap
Of a deceitful Concubine who shore me
Like a tame Weither, all my precious fleece,
Then turn'd me out ridiculous, defpoil'd,
Shav'n and disarm'd among mine enemies.
Chor. Defire 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 fmell,
Or taste that cheers the hearts of Gods or Men,
Allure thee from the cool Crystalline stream.
Samf. Where-ever fountain or fresh current flow'd
Against the Eastern ray, translucent, pure,
With touch ætherial of Heav'ns fiery rod
I drank, from the clear milky juice allaying
Thirst, and refresht; nor envy'd 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 fupport of health, When God with these forbidd'n made choice to rear His mighty Champion, strong above compare,
Whofe drink was only from the liquid brook.
Samf. But what avail'd this temp'rance, not com-
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,
Now blind, difheartn'd, sham'd, dishonour'd, quell'd, To what can I be useful, wherein serve
My Nation, and the work from Heav'n impos'd,
But to fit idle on the Houfhold hearth,
A burd'nous drone; to vifitants a gaze,
Or pity'd object, thefe redundant locks
Robuftious to no purpose cluftring down,
Vain monument of strength; till length of years
And fedentary numnefs craze my limbs
To a contemptible old age obfcure.
Here rather let me drudge and earn my bread,
Till virmin or the draff of fervile food
Confume me, and oft invocated death
Haften the welcome end of all my pains.
Man. Wilt thou then ferve Philiftians with that
Which was exprefly giv'n thee to annoy them?
Better at home lye Bed-rid, not only idle,
Inglorious, unimploy'd, with age out-worn.
But God who caus'd a Fountain at thy pray'r
From the dry ground to fpring, thy thirst t'allay
After the brunt of Battel, can as easie
Cause light again within thy eyes to spring,
Wherewith to ferve him better than thou haft;
And I perfuade me fo; why elfe this ftrength
Mirac❜lous yet remaining in those locks?
His might continues in thee not for naught,
Nor fhall his wondrous gifts be frustrate thus.
Samf. All otherwise to me my thoughts portend,
That these dark Orbs no more shall treat with light,
Nor th' 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 her felf;
My Race of Glory run, and race of shame,
And I shall shortly be with them that rest.
Man. Believe not these fuggeftions which proceed
From anguish of the mind and humours black,
That mingle with thy fancy. I however
Muft not omit a Father's timely care
• To profecute the means of thy deliverance
By ranfome, or how elfe: mean while be calm,
And healing words from these thy friends admit.
Samf. O that torment should not be confin'd
To the body's wounds and fores,
With maladies innumerable
In heart, head, breast and reins;
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