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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 mixt,
Of constancy no root infix'd,
That either they love nothing, or not long?

Whate'er it be, to wiseft Men and best
Seeming at firft all heav'nly under virgin Veil,
Soft, modest, meek, demure,
Once joyn’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 enslay'd With dotage, and his sense deprav'd To folly and shameful deeds which ruin ends. What Pilot so expert but needs must wreck Embarqu'd with such a Stears-mate at the Helm?

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Favour'd of Heav'n who finds
One virtuous rarely found,
That in domestick good combines :
Happy that house! his way to peace is smooth:
But Virtue which breaks through all opposition,
And all temptation can remove,
Moft shines and most is acceptable above.

Therefore God's universal Law
Gave to the Man despotick power
Over his Female in due awe,
Nor from that right to part an hour,
Smile she or lowre:
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 fee a storm ?
Samf. Fair days have oft contracted wind and rain.
Chor. But this another kind of tempest brings.
Sams. Be less abftruse.my riddling days are past.

Chor. Look now for no inchanting voice, nor fear
The bait of honied words; a rougher tongue
Draws hitherward, I know him by his stride,
The Giant Harapha of Gath, his look


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Haughty as is his pile high-built and proud.
Comes he in peace? what wind hath blown him hither
I less conjecture than when first I saw
The sumptuous Dalila floating this way:
His habit carries peace, his brow defiance.
Samf. Or peace or not, alike to me he comes.
Chor.His fraught we foon shall know,le now arrives.
Har. I come not, Samson, to condole thy chance,
As these perhaps, yet wish it had not been,
Though for no friendly intent. I am of Gath,
Men call me Harapha, of stock renown'd
As Og or Anak and the Emims old
That Kariathaim held, thou know'st me now
If thou at all art known. Much I have heard
Of thy prodigious might and feats perform'd
Incredible to me, in this displeas'd,
That I was never present on the place
Of those encounters, where we might have try'd
Each others force in camp or listed field:
And now am come to see of whom such noise
Hath walk'd about, and each limb to survey,
If thy appearance answer loud report,
Sams. The way to know were not to see but taste.


Har. Dost thou already single me? I thought Gieves and the Mill had tam'd thee. O that fortune Had brought me to the field where thou art fam’d To have wrought such wonders with an Asses Jaw; I should have forc'd thee foon wish other arms, Or left thy carcass where the Ass lay thrown: So had the glory of Prowess been recover'd To Palestine, won by a Philistin From the unforeskin'd race, of whom thou bear'st The highest name for valiant Acts, that honour Certain to have won by mortal duel from thee, I lose, prevented by thy eyes put out.

[but do Samf. Boast not of what thou wouldit have done, What then thou wouldst, thou seest it in thy hand.

Har. To combat with a blind Man I disdain, And thou hast need much washing to be touch'd.

Sams. Such usage as your honourable Lords Afford me allaslinated and betray'd, Who durft not with their whole united pow'rs In fight withstand me single and unarm’d, Nor in the house with chamber Ambushes Close-banded durst attaque me, no not sleeping, Till they had hir'd a woman with their gold



Breaking her Marriage Faith to circumvent me.
Therefore without feign'd shifts let be assign'd
Some narrow place enclos'd, where sight may give
Or rather flight, no great advantage on me;

Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy Helmet
And Briganding of brass, thy broad Habergeon,
Vant-brass and Greves, and Gauntlet, and thy Spear
A Weavers beam, and seven-times-folded shield,
I only with an Oak'n-staff will meet thee,
And raise such out-cries on thy clatter'd Iron,
Which long shall not with-hold me from thy head,
That in a little time while breath remains thee,
Thou oft shalt wish thy felf at Gath to boast
Again in safety what thou wouldst have done
To Samson, but shalt never fee Gath more.

Har. Thoa durft not thus disparage glorious arms Which greatest Heroes have in battel worn, Their ornament and safety, had not spells And black enchantments, some Magicians Art Arm’d thee or charm’d thee strong, which thou

from Heav'n Feign’dst at thy Birth was giv’n thee in thy Hair, Where strength can least abide, though all thy Hairs Were bristles rang'd like those that ridge the back

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