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.

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 enrolled, Extolling patience as the truest fortitude;

Man. Believe not these suggestions, which pro- And to the bearing well of all calamities, ceed

From anguish of the mind and humours black,
That mingle with my 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.


Sams. O that torment should not be confined 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.

Thoughts, my tormentors, armed with stings,

Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts,
Exasperate, exulcerate, and raise

Dire inflammation, which no cooling herb
Or medicinal 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 nursling once, and choice delight,
His destined from the womb,

Promised by heavenly message twice descending.
Under his special eye

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

Whom I by his appointment had provoked,
Left me all helpless with the irreparable loss
Of sight, reserved alive to be repeated,
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 once prayer yet remains, might I be heard,

All chances incident to man's frail life, Consolatories writ

With studied argument, and much persuasion


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,

Temperest thy providence through his short course
Not evenly, as thou rulest

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 remembered;
But such as thou hast solemnly elected,
With gifts and graces eminently adorned,
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 obscured, which were a fair dismission, But throwest them lower than thou didst exalt them high;

Unseemly falls in human eye,

Too grievous for the trespass or omission;
Oft leavest them to the hostile sword

Of heathen and profane, their carcasses

To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captived;

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 deformed

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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 bedecked, 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 filled, 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.

That wisest and best men, full oft beguiled,
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 endea


To lessen or extenuate my offence,

But that on the other side, if it be weighed
By itself, with aggravations not surcharged,
Or else with just allowance counterpoised,
I may, if possible, thy pardon find

The easier toward me, or thy hatred less.
First granting, as I do, it was a weakness
In me, but incident to all our sex,
Curiosity, inquisitive, importune
Of secrets, then with like infirmity

Sams. My wife! my traitress: let her not come To publish them, both common female faults:

near me.

Was it not weakness also to make known

Chor. Yet on she moves, now stands and eyes For importunity, that is, for nought,

thee fixed,

About to have spoke; but now, with head declined,
Like a fair flower surcharged with dew, she weeps,
And words addressed seem into tears dissolved,
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 can not but acknowledge; yet, if tears,
May expiate, (though the fact more evil drew
In the perverse event than I foresaw,)

Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety?
To what I did thou showed'st me first the way.
But I to enemies revealed, and should not:
Nor should'st thou have trusted that to woman's

Ere I to thee, thou to thyself wast cruel.
Let weakness then with weakness come to parle,
So near related, or the same of kind,
Thine forgive mine; that men may censure thine
The gentler, if severely thou exact not
More strength from me, than in thyself was found.
And what if love, which thou interpret'st hate,
The jealousy of love, powerful of sway

In human hearts, nor less in mine towards thee,

My penance hath not slackened, though my par- Caused what I did? I saw thee mutable


No way assured. 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 sufferest, 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, hyena! these are thy wonted

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 feigned remorse,
Confess, and promise wonders in her change;
Not truly penitent, but chief to try

Her husband, how for urged his patience bears,
His virtue or weakness which way to assail;
Then with more cautious and instructed skill
Agam transgresses, and again submits;

Of fancy, feared lest one day thou would'st leave


As her at Timna, sought by all means therefore
How to endear, and hold thee to me firmest:
No better way I saw than by importuning
To learn thy secrets, get into my power
Thy key of strength and safety: thou wilt say,
Why then revealed? I was assured by those
Who tempted me, that nothing was designed
Against thee but safe custody, and hold:
That made for me, I knew that liberty
Would draw thee forth to perilous enterprises;
While I at home sat full of cares and fears,
Wailing thy absence in my widowed bed;
Here I should still enjoy thee, day and nigh
Mine and love's prisoner, not the Philistines',
Whole to myself, unhazarded abroad,
Fearless at home of partners in my love.
These reasons in love's law have past for good,
Though fond and reasonless to some perhaps;
And love hath oft, well meaning, wrought much


Yet always pity or pardon hath obtained.
But not like all others, not austere
As thou art strong, inflexible as steel.
If thou in strength all mortals dost exceed,
In uncompassionate anger do not so.

Sams. How cunningly the sorceress displays
Her own transgressions, to upbraid me mine!
That malice, not repentance, brought thee hither,
By this appears; I gave, thou say'st, the example,
I led the way; bitter reproach, but true;

I to myself was false ere thou to me;

Such pardon therefore as I give my folly,

Sams. I thought where all thy circling wiles
would end;

In feigned religion, smooth hypocrisy!
But had thy love, still odiously pretended,
Been, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught

Far other reasonings, brought forth other deeds.
I, before all the daughters of my tribe
And of my nation, chose thee from among
My enemies, loved thee, as too well thou knew'st;
Too well; unbosomed all my secrets to thee,
Not out of levity, but overpowered

Take to thy wicked deed; which when thou seest By thy request, who could deny thee nothing;
Impartial, self-severe, inexorable,

Thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much rather
Confess it feigned: weakness is thy excuse,
And I believe it; weakness to resist
Philistian gold: if weakness may excuse,
What murderer, what traitor, parricide,
Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it?
All wickedness is weakness: that plea therefore
With God or man will gain thee no remission.
But love constrained thee; call it furious rage
To satisfy thy lust: love seeks to have love;
My love how could'st thou hope, who took'st the

To raise in me inexpiable hate,

Knowing, as needs I must, by thee betrayed?
In vain thou strivest to cover shame with shame,
Or by evasions thy crime uncoverest more.

Dal. Since thou determin'st weakness for no plea
In man or woman, though to thy own condemning,
Hear what assaults I had, what snares besides,
What sieges girt me round, ere I consented;
Which might have awed the best resolved of men,
The constantest, to have yielded without blame.
It was not gold, as to my charge thou lay'st,
That wrought with me: thou know'st the magis-

And princes of my country came in person,
Solicited, commanded, threatened, urged,
Adjured by all the bonds of civil duty
And of religion, pressed how just it was,
How honourable, how glorious, to entrap
A common enemy, who had destroyed
Such numbers of our nation: and the priest
Was not behind, but ever at my ear,
Preaching how meritorious with the gods
It would be to ensnare an irreligious
Dishonourer of Dagon: what had I
To oppose against such powerful arguments?
Only my love of thee held long debate,
And combated in silence all these reasons
With hard contest: at length that grounded maxim,
So rife and celebrated in the mouths
Of wisest men, that to the public good
Private respects must yield, with grave authority
Took full possession of me, and prevailed;
Virtue, as I thought, truth, duty, so enjoining.

Yet now am judged an enemy. Why then
Didst thou at first receive me for thy husband,
Then, as since then, thy country's foe professed?
Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave
Parents and country; nor was I their subject,
Nor under their protection, but my own,
Thou mine, not their's: if aught against my life
Thy country sought of thee, it sought unjustly,
Against the law of nature, law of nations;
No more thy country, but an impious crew
Of men conspiring to uphold their state
By worse than hostile deeds, violating the ends
For which our country is a name so dear;
Not therefore to be obeyed. But zeal moved thee;
To please thy gods thou did'st it; gods unable
To acquit themselves and prosecute their foes
But by ungodly deeds, the contradiction
Of their own deity, gods can not be;
Less therefore to be pleased, obeyed, or feared
These false pretexts and varnished colours failing,
Bare in thy guilt, how foul must thou appear!

Dal. In argument with men a woman ever
Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause.

Sams. For want of words no doubt, or lack of breath;

Witness when I was worried with thy peals.

Dal. I was a fool, too rash, and quite mistaken
In what I thought would have succeeded best.
Let me obtain forgiveness of thee, Samson;
Afford me place to show what recompense
Towards thee I intend for what I have misdone,
Misguided; only what remains past cure
Bear not too sensibly, nor still insist

To afflict thyself in vain: though sight be lost,
Life yet hath many solaces, enjoyed
Where other senses want not their delights
At home in leisure and domestic ease,
Exempt from many a care and chance, to which
Eyesight exposes daily men abroad.

I to the lords will intercede, not doubting
Their favourable ear, that I may fetch thee
From forth this loathsome prison-house, to abide
With me, where my redoubled love and care
With nursing diligence, to me glad office,
May ever tend about thee to old age,
With all things grateful cheered, and so supplied.

That what by me thou hast lost thou least shalt | In Ecron, Gaza, Asdod, and in Gath,

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 accursed,
To bring my feet again into the snare
Where once I have been caught: I know thy trains,
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 nulled;
So much of adder's wisdom I have learned,
To fence my ear against thy sorceries.

If in my flower of youth and strength, when all


Loved, honoured, feared me, thou alone could'st

hate me,

Thy husband, slight me, sell me, and forego me;
How would'st thou use me now, blind and thereby
Deceivable, in most things as a child
Helpless, thence easily contemned and scorned,
And last neglected! How wouldst thou insult,
When I must live uxorious 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

I shall be named 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 renowned than in mount Ephraim
Jael, who with inhospitable guile

Smote Sisera sleeping, through the temples nailed.
Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoy
The public marks of honour and reward,
Conferred upon me for the piety
Which to my country I was judged to have shown.
At this whoever envies or repines,

I leave him to his lot, and like my own.


Chor. She's gone, a manifest serpent by her sting
Discovered in the end till now concealed.
Sams. So let her go; God sent her to debase me,
And aggravate my folly, who committed
To such a viper his most secret trust
Of secrecy, my safety, and my life.

Chor. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange

After offence returning, to regain
Love once possessed, nor can be easily
Repulsed, without much inward passion felt
And secret sting of amorous remorse.

Sams. Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end,

Sams. Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance Not wedlock treachery endangering life.


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 hastened 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 reconciled at length, and sea to shore;
Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages,
Eternal tempest, never to be calmed.
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 denounced?
To mix with thy concernments I desist
Henceforth, nor too much disapprove my own.
Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouthed,
And with contrary blasts proclaims most deeds;
On both his wings, one black, the other white,
Bears greatest names in his wild airy flight.
My name perhaps among the circumcised
In Dan, in Judah, and the bordering tribes
To all posterity may stand defamed,
With malediction mentioned, and the blot
Of falsehood most unconjugal traduced.
But in my country where I most desire,

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 preferred

Thy paranymph, worthless to thee compared,
Successor in thy bed,

Nor both so loosely disallied

Their nuptials, nor this last so treacherously
Had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head.

Is it for that such outward ornament

Was lavished on their sex, that inward gifts
Were left for haste unfinished, judgment scant,
Capacity not raised to apprehend

Or value what is best

In choice, but oftest to affect the wrong,

Or was too much of self-love mixed,

Of constancy no root infixed,

That either they love nothing, or not long?

Whate'er it be, to wisest men and best,

Seeeming at first all heavenly under virgin veil,
Soft, modest, meek, demure.

Once joined, 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 enslaved

With dotage, and his sense depraved

To folly, and shameful deeds which ruin ends.
What pilot so expert but needs must wreck,
Embarked with such a steer's-mate at the helm?
Favoured 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 acceptable 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 lower:

So shall he least confusion draw

On his whole life, not swayed

By female usurpation, or dismayed.

But had we best retire? I see a storm.

Sams. The way to know were not to see, but


Har. Dost thou already single me? I thought
Gyves and the mill had tamed thee. O that fortune
Had brought me to the field, where thou art famed
To have wrought such wonders with an ass's jaw!
I should have forced thee soon with other arms,
Or left thy cascass where the ass lay thrown:
So had the glory of prowess been recovered
To Palestine, won by a Philistine,

From the unforeskinned race, of whom thou bearest
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.

Sams. Boast not of what thou would'st have
done, but do

What then thou would'st; thou seest it in thy hand.
Har. To combat with a blind man I disdain,
And thou hast need much washing to be touched.
Sams. Such usage as your honourable lords,
Afford me, assassinated and betrayed,
Who durst not with their whole united powers
In fight withstand me single and unarmed,

Sams. Fair days have oft contracted wind and Nor in the house with chamber-ambushes


Chor. But this another kind of tempest brings. Sams. Be less obstruse, my riddling days are past.

Close-banded durst attack me, no, not sleeping,
Till they had hired a woman with their gold
Breaking her marriage faith to circumvent me.
Therefore, without feigned shifts, let be assigned

Chor. Look now for no enchanting voice, nor Some narrow place enclosed, where sight may give fear

The bait of honied words; a rougher tongue
Draws hitherward; I know him by his stride,
The giant Harapha of Gath, his look
Haughty, as is his pile high-built and proud.
Comes he in peace? what wind hath blown him

I less conjecture than when first I saw
The sumptuous Dalila floating this way:
His habit carries peace, his brow defiance.

Sams. Or peace or not, alike to me he comes.
Chor. His fraught we soon shall know, he now


[Enter] Harapha.

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 renowned
As Og, or Anak, and the Emims old

That Kiriathaim held; thou knowest me now,
If thou at all art known. Much I have heard
Of thy prodigious might and feats performed,
Incredible to me, in this displeased,
That I was never present on the place
Of those encounters, where we might have tried
Each other's force in camp or listed field;
And now am come to see of whom such noise
Hath walked about, and each limb to survey,
f thy appearance answer loud report.


Or rather flight, no great advantage on me;
Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy helmet
And brigandine of brass, thy broad habergeon,
Vantbrass and greaves, and gauntlet, add thy

A weaver's beam, and seven-times folded shield;
I only with an oaken staff will meet thee,
And raise such outcries on thy clattered iron,
Which long shall not withhold me from thy head,
That in a little time, while breath remains thee,
Thou oft shalt wish thyself at Gath, to boast
Again in safety what thou wouldst have done
To Samson, but shalt never see Gath more.
Har. Thou durst not thus disparage glorious


Which greatest heroes have in battle worn,
Their ornament and safety, had not spells,
And black enchantments, some magician's art,
Armed thee or charmed thee strong, which thou
from Heaven

Feigned'st at thy birth was given thee in thy hair,
Where strength can least abide, though all thy

Were bristles ranged like those that ridge the back
Of chafed wild boars, or ruffled porcupines.

Sams. I know no spells, use no forbidden arts,
My trust is in the living God, who gave me
At my nativity this strength, diffused

No less through all my sinews, joints and bones,

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