Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Within the Tents of Zorah dwelt a man
Of Iacobs seed, and of the Tribe of Dan,
Knowne by the name of Manoah; to whom
Heaven had deny'd the treasure of the wombe;
His Wife was barren; And her prayers could not
Remove that great reproach, or clense that blot
Which on her fruitlesse name appear'd so foule,
Not to encrease the Tribe of Dan one soule:
Lōg had she, doubtles, stroven with heavē by prair's
Made strong with teares & sighs; hopes & despaires

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No doubt had often tortur'd her desire
Vpon a Rack, compos'd of frost and fire:
But Heaven was pleas'd to turne his deafned eares
Against those prai'rs made strōg with sighs & tears:
She often pray'd; but pray'rs could not obtaine:
Alas; she pray'd, she wept, she sigh'd in vaine:
She pray'd, no doubt; but pray'rs could finde no roome;
They prov'd, alas, as barren as her wombe.

Vpon a time (when her unanswer'd pray'r
Had now given just occasion of despaire,
(Even when her bed-rid faith was grown so fraile,
That very Hope grew hartlesse to prevaile)
Appear'd an Angel to her; In his face,
Terrour and sweetnesse labour'd for the place:
Sometimes his Sunbright eies would shine so fierce
As if their pointed beames would even pierce
Her soule, and strike th'amaz'd beholder dead:
Sometimes, their glory would disperse, and spread
More easie flames; and, like the Starre, that stood
O're Bethlem, promise and portend some good:
Mixt was his bright aspect; as if his breath
Had equall errands both of life and death:
Glory and Mildnesse seemed to contend
In his faire eyes so long, till in the end,
In glorious mildnesse, and in milder glory,
He thus salutes her with this pleasing story.

Woman; Heaven greets thee well: Rise up, and feare not;
Forbeare thy faithlesse tremblings; I appeare not
Clad in the vestments of consuming fire;
Cheare up, I have no warrant to enquire
Into thy sinnes; I have no Vyals here,
Nor dreadfull Thunderbolts to make thee feare:
I have no plagues t'inflict; nor is my breath
Charg'd with destruction; or my hand with death.

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No, no; cheare up, I come not to destroy;
J come to bring thee tidings of great joy:
Rowze up thy dull beliefe; for I appeare,
To exercise thy Faith, and not thy Feare:
The Guide, and great Creator of all things,
Chiefe Lord of Lords, and supreme King of Kings,
To whom an Host of men are but a swarme
Of murm'ring Gnats, whose high prevailing arme
Can crush ten thousand worlds, and at one blow
Can strike the earth to nothing, and ore-throw
The Lofts of Heaven; He that hath the Keyes
Of wombe;, to shut, and ope them when he please;
He that can all things, that he will, this day,
Is pleas'd to take thy long reproach away:
Behold; thy womb's inlarg'd; and thy desires
Shall finde successe: Before long time expires,
Thou shalt conceive: Ere twise five months be runne,
Be thou the joyfull mother of a sonne;
But see, thy wary palate doe forbeare
The juice of the bewitching Grape; Beware,
Lest thy defiers tempt thy lips to wine,
Which must be faithfull strangers to the Vine.
Strong drinke thou must not taste, and all such meate
The Law proclaimes uncleane, refraine to eate:
And when the fruit of thy restored wombe
Shall see the light, take heed no Rasor come
Vpon his fruitfull head; for from his birth,
Seene as the wombe entrusts him on the earth,
The child shall be a Nazarite, to God;
By whose appointment, be shall prove a Rod,
To scourge the proud Philistians; and recall
Poore suffring Israel from their slavish thrall.

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Meditat. 2.

How impudent is Nature to account
Those acts her own, that doe so farre surmount
Her easie reach! How purblinde are those eyes
Of stupid mortals, that have power to rise
No higher then her lawes, who takes upon her
The worke, and robs the Author of his honour!
Seest thou the fruitfull Wombe? How every yeare
It moves thy Cradle; to thy slender cheare
Invites another Ghest, and makes thee Father
To a new Sonne, who now, perchance, hadst rather
Bring up the old, esteeming propagation
A thanklesse worke of Supererogation:
Perchance the formall Mid-wife seemes to thee
Lesse welcome now; than she was wont to bee:
Thou standst amaz'd to heare such needlesse Ioy,
And car'st as little for it, as the Boy
That's newly borne into the world; Nay worse,
Perchance, thou grumblest, counting it a curse
Vnto thy faint estate, which is not able
T'encrease the bounty of thy slender Table:
Poore miserable man what ere thou bee,
I suffer for thy crooked thoughts; not thee:
Thou tak'st thy children to be gifts of nature;
Their wit, their flowring beauty, comely stature,
Their perfect health; their dainty disposition,
Their vertues, and their easie acquisition
Of curious Arts, their strengths attain'd perfection
You attribute to that benigne complexion,

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Wherewith your Goddesse Nature hath endow'd
Their well-disposed Organs; and are preud;
And here your Goddesse leaves you, to deplore,
That such admir'd perfections should be poore:
Advance thine eyes, no lesse then wilfull blinde,
And with thine eyes, advance thy drooping mindes
Correct thy thoughts; Let not thy wondring eye
Adore the servant, when the Master's by:
Looke on the God of Nature: From him come
These underprized blessings of the wombe:
He makes thee rich in childrē; whē his store
Crowns thee with wealth, why mak'st thou thy self poor?
He opes the womb: why then should'st thou repine?
They are his children, mortall, and not thine:
We are but Keepers; And the more he lends
To our tuition, he the more commends
Our faithfull trust; It is not every one
Deserves that honour, to command his Son;
She counts it as a fortune, that's allow'd
To nurse a Prince; (What nurse would not be proud
Of such a Fortune?) And shall we repine,
Great God, to foster any Babe of thine?
But 'tis the Charge we feare: our stock's but small;
If heaven, with Children, send us wherewithall
To stop their craving stomacks, then we care not;
Great God!
How hast thou crackt thy credit, that we dare
Trust thee for bread? How is't, we dare not venture
To keepe thy Babes, unlesse thou please to enter
In bond, for paiment? Art thou growne so poore,
To leave thy famisht Infants at our doore,
And not allow them food? Canst thou supply
The empty Ravens, and let thy children die?

Send me that stint, thy wisedome shall thinke fit,

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Thy pleasure is my will; and I submit:
Make me deserve that honour thou hast lent
To my fraile trust, and I will rest content.

Sect. 2.

The Argvment.

The wife f Manoah attended
with fearfull Hope, and hopefull Feare,
The joyfull tydings recommended
to her amazed Husbands care.

Thus, when the great Embassadour of Heaven
Had done that sacred service, which was given,
And trusted to his faithfull charge, he spred
His ayre-dividing pinions, and fled:
But now, th'affrighted woman apprehends
The strangenesse of the Message; recommends
Both it, and him, that did it, to her feares;
The newes was welcome to her gratefull eares,
But what the newesman was did so encrease
Her doubts, that her strange hopes could finde no peace;
For when her hopes would build a Tower of joy,
O, then her feares would shake it, and destroy
The maine foundation; what her hopes in vaine
Did raise, her feares would ruinate againe:
One while, she thought; It was an Angel sent;
And then her feares would teach her to repent
That frighfull thought; but whē she deeply waigh'd
The joyfull message, then her thoughts obay'd
Her first conceit; Distracted, with confusion,
Sometimes she fear'd it was a false delusion,

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Suggested in her too beleeving eares;
Sometimes she doubts it was a Dreame, that beares
No waight but in a slumber; till at last,
Her feet, advised by her thoughts, made haste
Vnto her husband; in whose eares she brake
This minde-perplexing secret thus, and spake;
Sir,

As my discursive thoughts did lately muse
On those great blessings, wherewith heaven doth use
To crowne his children, here; among the rest,
Me thoughts no one could make a wife more blest,
And crowne her youth, her age with greater measure
Of true content, than the unprized treasure
Of her chaste wombe: but as my thoughts were bent
Upon this subject, being in our Tent,
And none but I, appear'd before mine eyes
A man of God: His habit, and his guise
Was such as holy Prophets use to weare,
But in his dreadfull lookes there did appeare
Something that made me tremble; Jn his eye
Mildnesse was mixt with awfull Majesty;
Strange was his language, and I could not chuse
But feare the man, although J lik'd his newes;

Woman (said he) Cheare up, and doe not feare;
I have no Vials, nor no Iudgements here;
My hand hath no Commission, to enquire
Into thy sinnes; nor am I clad in fire:
I come to bring thee tydings of such things,!
As have their warrant from the King of Kings;
Thou shalt conceive, and when thy time is come,
Thou shalt enjoy the blessings of thy wombe;
Before the space of twice five months be runne,
Thou shalt become the parent of a Sonne;
Till then, take heed, thou neither drinke, nor eate

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Wines, or strong drinke, or Law-forbidden meate,
For when this promis'd child shall see the light,
Thou shalt be mother to a Nazarite.

While thus he spake, I trembled: Horrid feare
Vsurpt my quivering heart; Onely mine eare
Was pleas'd to be the vessell of such newes,
Which Heaven make good; and give me strength to use
My better Faith: The holy Prophets name
I was affraid t'enquire, or whence he came.

Meditat. 2.

And dost thou not admier? Can such things
Obtain lesse priviledge, thā a Tale, that brings
The audience wonder, enter mixt with pleasure?
Is't a small thing, that Angels can finde leisure
To leave their blessed seates; where face to face,
They see their God, and quit that heavenly place,
The least conception of whose joy, and mirth,
Transcends th'united pleasures of the earth?
Must Angels leave their Thrones of glory thus,
To watch our foot-steps, and attend on us?
How good a God have we! whose eyes can winke,
For feare they should discover the base finke
Of our loath'd sinnes; How doth he stop his eare,
Lest, when they call for Iustice, he should heare?
How often, Ah, how often doth He send
His willing Angels, hourely to attend
Our steps; and, with his bounty, to supply
Our helplesse wants, at our false-hearted cry?

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The bounteous Ocean, with a liberall hand,
Transports her laden treasure, to the land;
Inriches every Port, and makes each towne
Proud with that wealth, which now she cals her owne;
And what returne they for so great a gaine,
But sinckes and noysome Gutters, backe againe?
Even so (great God) thou sendst thy blessings in,
And we returne thee, Dunghils of our Sinne:
How are thy Angels hacknei'd up and downe
To visit man? How poorely doe we crowne
Their blessed labours? They with Ioy, dismount,
Laden with blessings, but returne th'account
Of Filth and Trash: They bring th'unvalued prize
Of Grace and promis'd Glory, while our eyes
Disdaine these heavenly Factours, and refuse
Their proferd wares; affecting, more, to chuse
A graine of pleasure than a Iemme of glory;
We finde no treasure, but in Transitory
And earth-bred Toies, while things immortal stand
Like Garments, to be sold at second hand:
Great God; Thou know'st, we are but flesh & blood;
Alas! we can interpret nothing, good,
But what is evill, deceitfull are our Ioyes;
We are but children, and we whine for Toyes:
Of things unknowne there can be no desire;
Quicken our hearts with the celestiall fire
Of thy discerning Spirit, and we shall know
Both what is good, and good desier too:

Vouchsafe to let thy blessed Angell come,
And bring the tidings, that the barren Wombe
Of our affections is inlarg'd; O when
That welcome newes shall be revealed, then,
Our soules shall soone conceive, & bring thee forth
The firstlings of a new, and holy birth.

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Sect. 3.

The Argvment.

Manoah's wonder turnes to zeale;
his zeale, to pray'r: His pray'rs obtaine:
The Angel that did late reveale
the joyfull newes, returnes againe.

Now when th'amazed woman had commended
Her tongue to silence, and her tale was ended;
Perplexed Manoah, ravisht at the newes,
Within himselfe, he thus began to muse;
Strange is the message! And as strangely done!
Shall Manoah's loynes be fruitfull? Shall a Sonne
Blesse his last dayes? Or shall an Issue come
From the chill closet of a barren wombe?
Shall Manoah's wife give suck? and now, at last
Finde pleasure, when her prime of youth is past?
Shall her cold wombe be now, in age, restor'd?
And was't a man of God, that brought the word?
Or was't some false delusion, that possest
The weaknesse of a lonely womans brest?
Or was't an Angel, sent from heaven, to show
What Heaven hath will, as well as pow'r, to doe.
Till then thou must refraine to drinke, or eate,
Wines, and strong drink, and Law-forbidden meate?
Evill Angls rather would instruct to riot,
They use not to prescribe so strict a Dyet;
No, no, I make no further question of it,
'Twas some good Angel, or some holy Prophet.

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Thus, having mus'd a while, he bow'd his face
Vpon the ground; and (prostrate in the place,
Where first he heard the welcome tydings) pray'd,
(His wonder now transform'd to zeale) and said:

Great God; that hast ingag'd thy selfe, by vow,
When e're thy little Israel begs, to bow
Thy gracious eare; O harken to the least
Of Israel's sonnes, and grant me my request:
By thee: J live, and breathe: Thou did'st become
My gracious God, both in, and from the wombe;
Thy precious favours I have still possest,
And have depended on thee, from the Brest:
My simple Infancy hath bin protected
By thee, my Child-hood taught, my youth corrected,
And sweetly chastned with thy gentle Rod;
J was no sooner, but thou wert my God:
All times declare thee good; this very houre
Can testifie the greatnesse of thy power,
And promptnesse of thy Mercy, which hast sent
This blessed Angel to us, to augment
The Catalogue of thy favours, and restore
Thy servants wombe, whose hopes had even given ore
T'expect an Issue: What thou hast begun,
Prosper, and perfect, till the worke be done:
Let not my Lord be angry, if I crave
Aboone, too great for me to beg, or have:
Let that blest Angel, that thou sent'st, of late,
Reblesse us with his presence, and relate
Thy will at large, and what must then be done,
When time shal bring to light this promis'd sonne.

About that time, when the declining Lampe
Trebles each shadow; when the evening dampe
Begins to moisten, and refresh the land,
The Wife of Manoah (under whose command

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The weaned Lambes did feed) being lowly seated
Vpon a Shrubbe (where often she repeated
That pleasing newes, the subject of her thought)
Appear'd the Angell: he, that lately brought
Those blessed tidings to her: up she rose;
Her second feare had warrant to dispose
Her nimble foot-steps to unwonted haste;
She runnes with speed, (she cannot runne too fast)
At length, she findes her husband; In her eyes,
Were Ioy and Feare; whilst her lost breath denies
Her speech to him, her trembling hands make signs;
She puffes and pants; her breathlesse tongue disjoynes
Her broken words: Behold, behold, (said she)
The man of God, (if man of God he be)
Appear'd againe: These very eyes beheld
The man of God: I left him in our field.

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Meditat. 3.

Heav'n is Gods Magazen; wherein, he hath
Stor'd up his Vials both of love, and wrath;
Iustice and Mercy, waite upon his Throne;
Favours and Thunderbolts attend upon
His sacred Will and Pleasure; Life and Death
Doe both receive their influence from his breath;
Iudgements attend his left; at his right hand
Blessings and everlasting Pleasures stand:
Heav'n is the Magazen; wherein, he puts
Both good and evill; Pray'r is the key, that shuts
And opens this great Treasure; Tis a key,
Whose wards are Faith, and Hope, and Charity.
Wouldst thou prevent a judgement, due to sinne?
Turne but the key, and thou maist locke it in:
Or wouldst thou have a Blessing fall upon thee?
Open the doore, and it will shower on thee.
Can Heav'n be false? or can th'Almighties tongue,
That is all very truth, doe truth that wrong,
Not to performe a vow? His lips have sworne,
Sworne by himselfe, that if a Sinner turne
To him, by pray'r; his pray'r shall not be lost
For want of eare; nor his desier, crost:
How is it then we often aske and have not:
We aske, and often misse, because we crave not
The things we should: his wisdome can foresee
Those blessings, better, that we want, than we.
Hast thou not heard a peevish Infant baule
To gaine possession of a knife? And shall

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Th'indulgent nurse bee counted wisely kinde,
If she be mov'd to please his childish minde?
Is it not greater wisdome, to deny
The sharp-edg'd knife, and to present his eye
With a fine harmlesse Puppit? We require
Things, oft, unfit; and our too fond desire
Fastens on goods, that are but glorious ills,
Whilst Heav'ns high wisdome contradicts our wils,
With more advantage, for we oft receive
Things that are farre more fit, for us, to have:
Experience tels; we seeke, and cannot finde:
We seeke, and often want, because we binde
The Giver to our times: He knows we want
Patience; and, therefore he suspends his grant,
T'encrease our faith, that so we may depend
Vpon his hand; he loves to heare us spend
Our childish mouthes: Things easily obtain'd,
Are lowly priz'd; but what our prayers have gain'd
By teares, and groanes, that cannot be exprest,
Are farre more deare, and sweeter, when possest.

Great God! whose power hath so oft prevail'd
Against the strength of Princes, and hast quail'd
Their prouder stomaks; with thy breath, discrown'd
Their heads, & thrown their Scepters to the groūd,
Striking their swelling hearts with cold despaire,
How art thou conquer'd and o'recome by Pray'r!
Infuse that Spirit, Great God, into my heart,
And I will have a blessing ere we part.

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Sect. 4.

The Argvment.

Manoah desires to know the fashion
And breeding of his promis'd sonne;
To whom the Angel makes relation
Of all things needfull to be done.

With that the Danite rose; and being guided
By his perplexed wife, they, both divided
Their heedlesse paces, till they had attain'd
The field, wherein the Man of God remain'd:
And, drawing neerer to his presence, stai'd
His weary steps, and, with obeysance, said:

Art thou the man, whose blessed lips foretold
Those joyfull tidings? Shall my tongue be bold,
Without the breach of manners to request
This boone, Art thou that Prophet, that possest
This barren woman, with a hope, that She
Shall beare a Sonne? He answer'd, J am He:
Said Manoah, then; Let not a word of thine
Be lost; let them continue to divine
Our future happinesse: let them be crown'd
With truth; and thou with honour, to be found
A holy Prophet: Let performance blesse
And speed thy speeches with a faire successe:
But tell me, Sir; when this great worke is done,
And time shall bring to light this promis'd Sonne,
What sacred Ceremonies shall we use?
What Rites? What way of bleeding shall we chuse

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T'observe? What holy course of life shall be
Be trained in? What shall his Office be?
Whereat th'attentive Angel did divide
The portall of his lips, and thus replide.

The child, that from thy fruitfull loynes shall come
Shall be a holy Nazarite, from the wombe;
Take heed; that wombe, that shall inclose this Childe,
Jn no case be polluted or defilde
With Law-forbidden meates: Let her forbeare
To taste those things that are forbidden there.
The bunch-back Camell shall be no repast
For her; Her palate shall forbeare to taste
The burrow haunting Cony, and decline
The swift foote-Hare, and mire-delighting Swine;
The griping Goshauke; and the towring Eagle;
The party-coloured Pye must not inveigle
Her lips to move; the brood-devouring Kite;
The croaking Raven; th'Owle that hates the light;
The steele-digesting Bird; the lasie Snaile;
The Cuckow, ever telling of one tale;
The fish-consuming Osprey, and the Want,
That undermines; the greedy Cormorant;
Th'indulgent Pellican; the predictious Crow;
The chattring Storke, and ravenous Vulter too;
The thorn-backt Hedge hogge, and the prating lay;
The Lapwing, flying still the other way;
The lofty-flying Falkon, and the Mouse,
That findes no pleasure in a poore mans house;
The suck-egge Weasell, and the winding Swallow,
From these she shall abstaine,, and not unhallow
Her op'ned lips with their polluted flesh;
Strong drinke she must forbeare, and to refresh
Her lingring palate, with lust-breeding Wine;
The Grape, or what proceedeth from the Vine,

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She must not taste, for feare she be defilde,
And so pollute her wombe-enclosed Childe:
When time shall make her mother of a Sonne,
Beware, no keen-edg'd Raisor come upon
His ballowed Crowne: the haire upon his head
Must not be cut: His bountious lockes must spred
On his broad shoulders: From his first drawne breath
The Childe shall be a Nazarite, to his death.

Meditat. 4.

What shallow judgment, or what easie braine
Can choose but laugh at those, that strive in vaine
To build a Tower, whose ambitious Spire
Should reach to heaven? what foole would not admire
To see their greater folly? who would raise
A Tower, to perpetuate the praise
And lasting Glory of their renowned Name,
What have they loft but Monuments of shame?
How poore and slender are the enterprises
Of man; that onely whispers and advises
With heedlesse flesh and blood, and never makes
His God, of counsell, where he undertakes!
How is our God and wee of late falne out!
We rather chuse to languish in our doubt,
Then be resolv'd by him; We rather use
The helpe of hell-bred wizzards, that abuse
The stile of wise men then to have recourse
To him that is the Fountaine and the sourse
Of all good Counsels, and from whom, proceeds
A living Spring, to water all our needs;

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How willing are his Angels to descend
From off their throne of Glory, and attend
Vpon our wants! How oft returne they back
Mourning to heaven, as if they griev'd for lack
Of our imployment! O how prone are they
To be assistant to us, every way!
Have wee just cause to joy? They'll come and sing
About our beds: Does any judgement bring
Iust cause of griefe? they'll fall a grieving too;
Doe we triumph? their joyfull mouthes will blow
Their louder Trumpets, Or doe feares affect us?
They'l guard our heads from danger, & protect us:
Are we in prison, or in Persecution?
They'l fill our hearts with joy, and resolution:
Or doe we languish in our sickly beds?
They'l come & pitch their Tents about our heads;
See they a sinner penitent, and mourne
For his bewail'd offences, and returne?
They clap their hands, and joyne their warbling voyces,
They sing, and all the Quire of Heaven rejoyces.

What is in us poore Dust and Ashes, Lord,
That thou should'st looke upon us, and afford
Thy precious favours to us, and impart
Thy gracious Counsels? what is our desert,
But Death, and Horror? What can we more clame,
Then they, that now are scorching in that flame,
That hath nor moderation, rest, nor end?
How does thy mercy, above thought extend
To thē thou lov'st! Teach me (great God) to prize
Thy sacred Counsels: open my blinde eyes,
That I may see to walke the perfect way;
For as I am, Lord, I am apt to stray
And wander to the gulph of endlesse woe:
Teach me what must be done, and helpe to doe.

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Sect. 5.

The Argvment.

Manoah desires to understand,
but is deny'd the Angels name:
He offers by the Angels hand:
the Angel vanishes in a flame.

So said, The sonne of Israel, (easly apt
To credit, what his soule desir'd, and rapt
With better hopes, which serv'd him as a guide
To his beliefe, o'rejoy'd) he thus replide;
Let not the man of God, whose Heavenly voyce
Hath blest mine eare, and made my soule rejoyce,
Beyond expression, now refuse to come
Within my Tent, and honour my poore home
With his desired presence; there to taste
His servants slender diet, and repast
Vpon his Rurall fare: These hands shall take
A tender Kidde from out the flockes, and make,
(Without long tarriance) some delighfull meate
Which may invite the man of God to eate:
Come, come (my Lord) and what defect of food
Shall be, thy servants welcome shall make good:
Whereto the Angel (who as yet had made
Himselfe unknowne) reanswer'd thus, and said.
Excuse me: Though thy hospitable love
Prevaile to make me stay, it cannot move
My thankfull lips to taste thy liberall cheare;
Let not thy bounty urge in vaine; Forbeare

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To strive with whom thy welcome cannot leade
To eate thy Kid, or tast thy profer'd bread;
Convert thy bounty to a better end,
And let thy undefiled hands commend
A burnt oblation to the King of Kings;
'Tis he, deserves the thanks; his servant brings
But that bare message which his lips enjoyne;
His be the glory of the Act, not mine.
Said then the Israelite, Jf my desire
Be not too over-rash, but may conspire
With thy good pleasure, let thy servants eare
Be honourd with thy name; that whensoere
These blessed tidings (that possesse my heart
With firme beleefe) shall in due time impart
Their full perfection, and desir'd successe
To my expecting eye, my soule may blesse
The tongue that brought the message, and proclaime
An equall honour to his honour'd name.
To whom, the Angell (whose severer brow
Sent forth a frowne) made answere; Doe not thou
Trouble thy busie thoughts with things, that are
Above thy reach; Enquier not too farre;
My name is cloath'd in mists; 'Tis not my taske,
To make it knowne to thee; nor thine, to aske:
With that, the Danite tooke a tender Kid,
And said; my Lord, The Tribe of Dan's forbid
To burne an offering; Onely Levites may,
And holy Prophets, If thou please to lay
The sacrifice on yonder sacred Stone,
I'le fetch thee fire, for fier there is none,
Forbeare thy needlesse paines, the Angell said,
Heaven will supply that want; With that, he laid
The offering on; and, from the stone, there came
A sudden fire, whose high ascending flame

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Burnt and consum'd th'accepted Sacrifice;
Now whilst th'amaz'd beholders wondring eyes
Were taken Captives with so strange a sight,
And whilst the new-wrought miracle did affright
Their trēbling harts, the Man of God (whose name
Must not b'inquired) vanisht in the flame,
And left them both unable to expound
Each others feares; both groveling on the ground.

Meditat. 5.

A thankfull heart hath earnd one favour twice;
But he that is ungratefull, wants no vice:
The beast, that onely lives the life of Sense,
Prone to his severall actions and propense
To what he does, without th'advice of will,
Guided by nature, (that does nothing ill)
In practicke Maximes, proves it a thing hatefull,
T'accept a Favonr, and to live ungratefull:
But man, whose more diviner soule hath gain'd
A higher step to reason: nay, attain'd
A higher step then that, the light of grace,
Comes short of them; and in that point, more base
Then they most prompt and perfect in that rude,
Vnnaturall, and high sinne, Ingratitude:
The Stall-fed Oxe, that is growne fat, will know
His carefull feeder, and acknowledge too:
The prouder Stallion, will at length espie,
His Masters bounty, in his Keepers eye:
The ayre-dividing Faulkon, will requite
Her Faulkners paines, with a well pleasing flight:

288

The generous Spaniell, loves his Masters eye,
And licks his fingers, though no meate be by;
But Man, ungratefull Man, that's borne, and bred
By Heavens immediate pow'r; maitain'd and fed
By his providing hand; observ'd, attended
By his indulgent grace; preserv'd, defended
By his prevailing arme; this Man, I say,
Is more ungratefull, more obdure than they:
By him, we live and move; from him, we have
What blessings he can give, or we can crave:
Food for our hunger; Dainties, for our pleasure;
Trades, for our buisnes; Pastimes, for our leasure;
In griefe, he is our Ioy; in want, our Wealth;
In bondage, Freedome; and in sicknesse, Health;
In peace, our Counsell; and in warre, our Leader;
At Sea, our Pilot; and, in Suites, our Pleader;
In paine, our Helpe; in Triumph, our Renowne;
In life, our Comfort; and in death our 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 than the Trough:
We still receive: our hearts we seldome lift
To heaven; but drowne the giver in the Gift;
We taste the Skollops, and returne the Shels;
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 blessings; 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.

289

Sect. 6.

The 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.

When time, (whose progresse mod'rates and out weares
Th'extreamest passions of the highest fears)
By his benignant power, had re-inlarg'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
Heav'ns 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

290

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 single, while he stood,
And commun'd with me: At each word he spake,
Me thought, my heart recoil'd; his voyce 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 overcome her feares) replide;

Despairing Man; take courage, and forbeare
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, unappeas'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 they had meant 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:

291

Thrice forty dayes not full compleat, 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
Of his beleeving parents, whose devout
And heaven-ascending Orizans, no doubt,
Were turn'd to thanks, and heart-rejoycing praise,
To holy Hymnes, and heavenly Roundelaies:
The childe growes sturdy; Every day gives strength
Vnto his wombe-fed limmes; till at the length
Th'apparent mother, having past the date
Of her accompt, does only 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 repar'd her wained light,
Her wombe no longer able to retaine
So great a guest, betraid her to her paine,
And for the toilsome 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 Infancy 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 suppli'd
With mighty strength: His haughty spirit defide
And hoast of men: His power had the praise
'Bove all that were before, or since his dayes:
And to conclude, Heav'n never yet conjoyn'd
So strong a body, with so stout a minde.

292

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 skins to cover shame withall;
When as the fruit-encreasing earth obay'd
The will of Man without the wound of spade,
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 Angels! When the Bryer,
The fruitlesse Bramble, the fast growing weed,
And downy Thistle had, as yet, no seed!
When labour was not knowne, and man did eate
The earths faire fruits, unearned with his sweate!
When wombs might have conceiv'd without the stain
Of sin, and brought forth children, without paine!
When Heaven could speak to mans unfrighted eare
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 obey'd not: And his proud desire
Cing'd her bold feathers in forbidden fire:
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

293

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 strangenes 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 nature 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 is the ruine, than,
And misery of sin-beguiled Man!
On what foundation shall his hopes relie?
See wee thy face, or see it not, we dye:

O let thy Word (great God) instruct the youth
And frailty of our faith; Thy Word is truth:
And what our eyes want power to perceive,
O, let our hearts admier, and beleeve.

294

Sect. 7.

The Argvment.

Samson at Timnah falls in love
And fancies a Philistian maide:
He moves his parents: They reprove
His sinfull choyce: dislike, disswade.

Now when as strong limb'd Samson had dispos'd
His trifling thoughts to children, and disclos'd
His bud of child-hood, which being overgrowne,
And blossome of his youth so fully blowne,
That strength of nature now thought good to seeke
Her entertainment on his downy cheeke,
And with her manly bounty did begin
To uneffeminate his smoother chin,
He went to Timnah; whither, did resort
A great concourse of people, to disport
Themselves with pastime; or, perchance, to show
Some martiall Feats (as they were wont to doe)
Scaffolds were builded round about, whereon
The Crowne of eye-delighted lookers on
Were closely pil'd: As Samsons wandring eye
Was ranging up and downe, he did espye
A comely Virgin, beautifull and young,
Where she was seated midst the gazing throng:
The more he view'd, the more his eye desir'd
To view her face; and as it view'd, admir'd;
His heart, inflam'd; his thoughts were all on fire;

295

His passions all were turn'd into desire;
Such were his lookes, that she might well discry
A speaking lover in his sparkling eye:
Sometimes his reason bids his thoughts beware,
Lest he be catcht in a Philistian snare;
And then, his thwarting passion would reply
Feare not to be a prisoner to that eye:
Reason suggests; 'Tis vaine, to make a choyce,
Where parents have an over-ruling voyce:
Passion replies, That feare and filiall duty
Must serve affection, and subscribe to beauty:
Whilst Reason faintly mov'd him to neglect,
Prevailing passion urg'd his soule t'affect:
Passion concludes; Let her enjoy thy heart:
Reason concludes; But let thy tongue impart
Thy affection to thy parents, and discover
To them, thy thoughts: With that the wounded lover
(Whose quicke-divided paces had out runne
His lingring heart) like an observant sonne,
Repaires unto his parents; fully made
Relation of his troubled thoughts, and said,
Sir.
This day, at Timnah, to these wretched eyes,
Being taken captive with the novelties
Which entertain'd my pleased thoughts, appear'd
A fairer object; which, hath so endear'd
My very soule, (with sadnesse so distrest)
That this poore heart can finde no ease, no rest;
It was a Virgin; in whose Heavenly face,
Vnpattern'd Beauty, and diviner Grace
Were so conjoyn'd, as if they both conspir'd
Te make one Angell; when these eyes enquir'd
Into the excellence of her rare perfection,
They could not choose but like, and my affection

296

Is so inflamed with desire, that I
Am now become close prisoner to her eye;
Now if my sad Petition may but finde
A faire successe to ease my tortur'd minde;
And if your tender hearts be pleas'd to prove
As prone to pitty mine, as mine to love;
Let me, with joy, exchange my single life,
And be the husband of so faire a wise.
Whereto, th'amazed parents, (in whose eye
Distast and wonder percht) made this reply;

What strange desire, what vnadvis'd request
Hath broken loose from thy distracted brest?
What! are the Daughters of thy brethren growne
So poore in Worth, and Beauty? Is there none
To please that over-curious eye of thine,
But th'issue of a cursed Philistine?
Can thy miswandring eyes choose none, but her,
That is the child of an Idolater?
Correct thy thoughts, and let thy soule rejoyce
In lawfull beauty: Make a wiser choyce:

How well this counsell pleas'd the tyred eares
Of love-sicke Samson: O, let him that beares
A crost affection, judge: Let him discover
The wofull case of this afflicted lover:
What easie pencill cannot represent
His very lookes? How his sterne browes were bent?
His drooping head? his very port and guise?
His bloodlesse cheekes, and deadnesse of his eyes?
Till, at the length, his moving tongue betrai'd
His sullen lips to language, thus; and said: Sir,

Th'extreame affection of my heart does leade
My tongue, (that's quickned with my love) to plead
What, if her parents be not circumcis'd?
Her issue shall; and she, perchance, advis'd

297

To worship Israels God, and, to forget
Her fathers house; Alas, she is as yet,
Let young; her downy yeares are greene, and tender;
Shee's but a twigge, and time may easly bend her
T'embrace the truth: Our counsells {may} controule
Her sinfull breeding, and so save a soule:
“ Nay; who can tell, but Heaven did recommend
Her beauty to these eyes, for such an end?
O lose not that which Heaven is pleas'd to save,
Let Samson then obtaine, as well as crave:
You gave me being, then prolong my life
And make me husband to so faire a wife.
With that the parēts joyn'd their whispering heads;
Samson observes; and, in their parly, reads
Some Characters of hope; The mother smiles;
The father frownes; which, Samson reconciles
With hopefull fears; She smiles, & smiling crownes
His hopes; which, He deposes with his frownes:
The whispring ended; joyntly they displaid,
A halfe resolved countenance, and said,

Samson, suspend thy troubled minde a while,
Let not thy over-charged thoughts recoile:
Take heed of Shipwracke; Rocks are neare the Shore;
“ Wee'l see the Virgin, and resolve thee more.

298

Meditat. 6.

Love is a noble passion of the heart;
That, with it very essence doth impart
All needfull Circumstances, and effects
Vnto the chosen party it affects;
In absence, it enjoyes; and with an eye
Fill'd with celestiall fier, doth espye
Objects remote: It joyes, and smiles in griefe;
It sweetens poverty; It brings reliefe;
It gives the Feeble, strength; the Coward, spirit;
The sicke man, health; the underserving, merit;
It makes the proud man, humble; and the stout
It ouercomes; and treads him underfoot;
It makes the mighty man of warre to droope;
And him, to serve, that never, yet, could stoope;
It is a fire, whose Bellowes are the breath
Of heaven above, and kindled here beneath:
Tis not the power of a mans election
To loue; He loves not by his owne direction;
It is nor beauty, nor benigne aspect
That alwayes moves the Lover, to affect;
These are but means: Heavens pleasure is the cause:
Love is not bound to reason, and her Lawes
Are not subjected to th'imperious will
Of man: It lies not in his power to nill:
How is this Love abus'd! That's onely made
A snare for wealth, or to set up a trade;
T'enrich a great mans Table, or to pay
A desperate debt; or meerly to allay

299

A base and wanton lust; which done, no doubt,
The love is ended, and her fier out:
No; he that loves for pleasure, or for pelfe,
Loves truely, none; and, falsely, but himselfe:
The pleasure past, the wealth consum'd and gone,
Love hath no subject now to worke upon:
The props being falne, that did support the roofe,
Nothing but rubbish, and neglected Stuffe,
Like a wilde Chaos of Confusion, lies
Presenting uselesse ruines to our eyes:
The Oyle that does maintaine loves sacred fire,
Is vertue mixt with mutuall desire
Of sweet societie, begun and bred
I'th soule; nor ended in the mariage bed:
This is the dew of Hermon, that does fill
The soule with sweetnesse, watring Sions hill;
This is that holy fire, that burns and lasts,
Till quencht by death: The other are but blasts,
That faintly blaze like Oyle-forsaken snuffes
Which every breath of discontentment puffs
And quite extinguishes; and leaves us nothing
But an offensive subject of our loathing.

300

Sect. 8.

The Argvment.

He goes to Timnah: As he went,
he slew a Lyon, by the way;
He sues; obtaines the Maids consent:
and they appoint the mariage day.

When the next day had, with his morning light,
Redeem'd the East from the dark shades of night;
And, with his golden raies, had overspred
The neighb'ring Mountaines; from his loathed Bed,
Sick-thoughted Samson rose, whose watchfull eyes,
Morpheus that night had, with his leaden keyes;
Not power to close: his thoughts did so incumber
His restlesse soule, his eyes could never slumber;
Whose softer language, by degrees did wake
His fathers sleepe-bedeafned eares, and spake;

Sir; Let your early blessings light upon
The tender bosome of your prosprous Sonne,
And let the God of Israel repay
Those blessings, double, on your head, this day:
The long-since banisht shadowes make me bold
To let you know, the morning waxes old;
The Sunbeames are growne strong; their brighter hiew
Have broke the Mists, and dride the morning dewe;
The sweetnesse of the season does invite
Your steps to visit Timnah, and acquite
Your last nights promise:
With that the Danite and his wife arose,

301

Scarce yet resolv'd, at last they did dispose
Their doubtfull paces, to behold the prize
Of Samsons heart, and pleasure of his eyes;
They went, and when their travell had attain'd
Those fruitfull hills, whose clusters entertain'd
Their thirsty palats, with their swelling pride,
The musing lover being stept aside
To gaine the pleasure of a lonely thought,
Appear'd a full ag'd Lyon, who had sought
(But could not finde) his long desired prey;
Soone as his eye had given him hopes to pay
His debt to nature, and to mend that fault
His empty stomacke found, he made assault
Vpon th'unarmed Lovers brest, whose hand
Had neither staffe, nor weapon, to withstand
His greedy rage; but he whose mighty strength
Or sudden death must now appeare, at length,
Stretcht forth his brawny arme, (his arme supplide
With power from heaven) and did, with ease, divide
His body limme from limme, and did betray
His flesh to foules, that lately sought his prey:
This done; his quicke redoubled paces make
His stay amends; his nimble steps oretake
His leading parents; who by this, discover
The smoake of Timnah: Now the greedy Lover
Thinkes every step, a mile; and every pace
A measur'd League, untill he see that face,
And finde the treasure of his heart, that lies
In the faire Casket of his Mistresse Eyes;
But, all this while, close Samson made not knowne
Vnto his Parents, what his hands had done:
By this, the gate of Timnah entertaines
The welcome travellers: The parents paines
Are now rewarded with their sonnes best pleasure:

302

The Virgin comes; His eyes can finde no leisure,
To owne another object: O, the greeting
Th'impatient lovers had at their first meeting!
The Lover speakes; She answers; He replies;
She blushes; He demandeth; Shee denies;
He pleads affection; She doubts; He sues
For nuptiall love; She questions; He renewes
His earnest suite: Importunes; She relents;
He must have no deniall; She consents:
They passe their mutual loves: Their joyned hands
Are equall earnests of the nuptiall bands:
The parents are agreed; All parties pleas'd;
The day's set downe; the lovers hearts are eas'd,
Nothing displeases now, but the long stay
Betwixt th'appointment, and the mariage day.

303

Meditat. 8.

Tis too severe a censure: If the Sonne
Take him a wife; the mariage fairely done,
Without consent of parents, (who perchance
Had rais'd his higher price, knew where t'advance
His better'd fortunes to one hundred more)
He lives, a Fornicator; She, a Whore:
Too hard a censure! And it seemes to me,
The Parent's most delinquent of the three:
What; if the better minded Son doe aime
At worth? What, if rare vertues doe inflame
His rapt affection? What, if the condition
Of an admir'd, and dainty disposition
Hath won his soule? Whereas the covetous Father
Finds her Gold light, and recommends him, rather,
T'an old worne widow, whose more weighty purse
Is fil'd with gold, and with the Orphans curse;
The sweet exubrance of whose full mouth'd portion
Is but the cursed issue of extortion;
Whose worth, perchance, lies onely in her weight,
Or in the bosome of her great estate;
What, if the Sonne, (that does not care to buy
Abundance at so deare a rate) deny
The soule-detesting profer of his Father,
And in his better Iudgement chooses, rather,
To match with meaner Fortunes, and desert?
I thinke that Mary chose the better part.

What noble Families (that have out-growne
The best records) have quite bin overthrowne

304

By wilfull parents, that will either force
Their sonnes to match, or haunt them with a curse!
That can adapt their humours, to rejoyce,
And fancy all things, but their childrens choice!
Which makes them, often, timorous to reveale
The close desiers of their hearts, and steale
Such matches, as, perchance, their faire advice
Might, in the bud, have hindred in a trice;
Which done, and past, O, then their hasty spirit
Can thinke of nothing, under Disinherit;
He must be quite discarded, and exilde;
The furious father must renounce his childe;
Nor Pray'r nor Blessing must he have; bereiven
Of all; Nor must he live, nor die forgiven;
When as the Fathers rashnesse, oftentimes,
Was the first causer of the Childrens crimes.

Parents, be not too cruell: Children doe
Things, oft, too deepe for us t'enquire into:
What father would not storme, if his wilde Sonne
Should doe the deed, that Samson here had done?
Nor doe I make it an exemplar act;
Onely, let parents not be too exact
To curse their children, or to dispossesse
Them of their blessings, Heaven may chance to blesse:
Be not too strict: Faire language may recure
A fault of youth, whilst rougher words obdure.

305

Sect. 9.

The Argvment.

Samson goes downe to celebrate
his mariage and his nuptiall feast:
The Lyon, which he slew of late
hath honey in his putrid brest.

When as the long expected time was come,
Wherin these lingring Lovers should consumme
The promis'd mariage, & observe the rites,
Pertaining to those festivall delights,
Samson went downe to Timnah; there, t'enjoy
The sweet possession of his dearest joy;
But as he past those fruitfull Vineyards, where
His hands of late, acquit him of that feare
(Wherewith the fierce assaulting Lyon quail'd
His yet unpractis'd courage) and prevail'd
Vpon his life; as by that place he past,
He turn'd aside, and borrowed of his hast
A little time, wherein his eyes might view
The Carkas of the Lyon which he slew;
But when his wandring footsteps had drawne neer
The unlamented herse, his wondring eare
Perceiv'd a murm'ring noise, discerning not
From whence that strange confusion was, or what;
He staies his steps, and hearkens; still the voyce
Presents his eare, with a continued noyse;
At length, his gently moving feet apply
Their paces to the Carkas, where his eye

306

Discernes a Swarme of Bees, whose laden thighes
Repos'd their burthens, and the painfull prize
Of their sweet labour in the hollow Chest
Of the dead Lyon, whose unbowell'd brest
Became their plenteous storehouse, where, they laid
The blest encrease of their laborious Trade;
The fleshly Hive was fill'd with curious Combes,
Within whose dainty waxe-divided roomes,
Were shops of honey, whose delicious taste
Did sweetly recompence th'adjourned haste
Of lingring Samson, who does now repay
The time he borrow'd from his better way,
And with renewed speed, and pleasure, flies,
Where all his soule-delighting treasure lies;
He goes to Timnah, where his heart doth finde
A greater sweetnesse, than he left behinde;
His hasty hands invites her gladder eyes
To see, and lips to taste that obvious prize
His interrupted stay had lately tooke,
And as shee tasted, his fixt eyes would looke
Vpon her varnisht lips, and, there, discover
A sweeter sweetnesse to content a Lover:
And now the busie Virgins are preparing
Their costly Iewels, for the next dayes wearing;
Each lappe is fill'd with Flowers, to compose
The nuptiall Girland, for the Brides faire browes;
The cost-neglecting Cookes have now encreast
Their pastry dainties to adorne the feast;
Each willing hand is labring to provide
The needfull ornaments to deck the Bride.

But now, the crafty Philistins, for feare
Lest Samsons strength, (which startled every eare
With dread and wonder) under that pretence,
Should gaine the meanes, to offer violence;

307

And, through the shew of nuptiall devotion,
Should take advantages to breed commotion,
Or lest his popular power, by coaction
Or faire entreats, may gather to his faction
Some loose and discontented men of theirs,
And so betray them to supected feares;
They therefore to prevent ensuing harmes,
Gave strict command, that thirty men of armes,
Vnder the maske of Bridemen, should attend
Vntill the nuptiall ceremonies end.

Meditat. 9.

How high, unutterable, how profound,
(Whose depth the line of knowledge cannot found)
Are the deerces of the Eternall God!
How secret are his wayes, and how untrod
By mans conceipt, so deeply charg'd with doubt!
How are his Counsels past our finding out!
O, how unscrutable are his designes!
How deepe, and how unsearchable are the Mines
Of his abundant Wisdome! how obscure
Are his eternall Iudgements! and how sure!
Lists he to strike? the very Stones shall flie
From their unmov'd Foundations, and destroy:
Lists he to punish? Things that have no sense,
Shall vindicate his Quarrell, on th'Offence:
Lists he to send a plague? The winters heate
And summers damp, shall make his will compleate:
Lists he to send the Sword? Occasion brings
New Iealousies betwixt the hearts of Kings:

308

Wills he a famine? Heaven shall turne to brasse,
And earth to Iron, till it come to passe:
Both stocks, and stones, and plants, and beasts fulfil
The secret Counsell of his sacred will,
Man, onely wretched Man, is disagreeing
To doe that thing, for which he had his being:
Samson must downe to Timnah; in the way
Must meet a Lyon, whom his hands must slay;
The Lyons putrid Carkas must enclose
A swarme of Bees; and, from the Bees, arose
A Riddle; and that Riddle must be read,
And by the reading, Choller must be bred,
And that must bring to passe Gods just designes
Vpon the death of the false Philistines:
Behold the progresse, and the royall Gests
Of Heavens high vengeance; how it never rests,
Till, by appointed courses, it fulfill
The secret pleasure of his sacred will.

Great Savior of the world; Thou Lambe of Sion,
That hides our sinnes; That art the wounded Lyon:
O, in thy dying body, we have found
A world of hony; whence we may propound
Such sacred Riddles, as shall, underneath
Our feet, subdue the power of Hell and Death;
Such Mysteries; as none but he, that plough'd
With thy sweet Hayfer's able to uncloud;
Such sacred Mysteries, whose eternall praise
Shall make both Angels, and Archangels raise
Their louder voyces, and, in triumph, sing,
All Glory and Honour to our highest King,
And to the Lambe, that sits upon the throne;
Worthy of power and praise is he, alone,
Whose glory hath advanc'd our key of mirth;
Glory to God, on high; and peace, on Earth.

309

Sect. 10.

The Argvment.

The Bridegroome, at his nuptiall Feast,
to the Philistians, doth propound
A Riddle: which they all addrest
themselves, in counsell to expound.

Now, when the glory of the next dayes light
Had chas'd the shadowes of the tedious night,
Then coupling Hymen with his nuptiall bands,
And golden Fetters, had conjoyn'd their hands;
Then jolly welcome had to every Guest,
Expos'd the bounty of the mariage Feast,
Their now appeased stomacks did enlarge
Their captive tongues, with power to discharge
And quit their Table-duty, and disburse
Their store of enterchangeable discourse,
Th'ingenious Bridegroome turn'd his rolling eyes
Upon his guard of Bridemen, and applies
Espeech to them: And, whil'st that every man
Lent if his attentive eare, he thus began;

My tongue's in labour, and my thoughts abound;
I have a doubtfull Riddle, to propound;
Which if your joyned wisdomes can discover,
Before our seven dayes feasting be past over;
Then, thirty Sheets, and thirty new supplies
Of Raiment shall be your deserved prize:
But if the seven dayes feast shall be dissolv'd,
Before my darkned Riddle be resolv'd,

310

Ye shall be all engaged to resigne
The like to me, the vict'rie being mine:
So said; the Bridemen, whose exchanged eyes
Found secret hopes of conquest, thus replies:

Propound thy Riddle: Let thy tongue dispatch
Her cloudy errand: We accept the match:
With that, the hopefull Challenger convai'd
His Riddle to their hearkning eares, and said;

The Riddle.

Our food, in plenty, doth proceed
from him that us'd to eate;
And he, whose custome was to feed
does now afford us meate;
A thing that I did lately meet,
as I did passe along,
Afforded me a dainty sweet,
yet was both sharpe and strong:
The doubtful Riddle being thus propounded,
They muse; the more they mus'd, the more cōfounded:
One rounds his whispring neighbour in the eare,
Whose lab'ring lips deny him leave to heare:
Another, trusting rather to his owne
Conceit, sits musing, by himselfe, alone:
Here, two are closely whispring, till a third
Comes in, nor to the purpose speakes a word:
There, sits two more, and they cannot agree
How rich the clothes, how fine the Sheets must be
Yonder stands one that, musing, smiles; no doubt,
But he is neere it, if not found it out;
To whom another rudely rushes in,
And puts him quite beside his thought agin:

311

Here, three are Whispring, and a fourths intrusion
Spoiles all, and puts them all into confusion:
There sits another in a Chaire, so deepe
In thought, that he is nodding fast asleepe:
The more their busie fancie doe endever,
The more they erre; Now, farther off, than ever:
Thus when their wits, spur'd on with sharpe desire,
Had lost their breath, and now began to tire,
They ceas'd to tempt conceit beyond her strength;
And, weary of their thoughts, their thoughts at length
Present a new exploit: Craft must supply
Defects of wit; Their hopes must now rely
Vpon the frailty of the tender Bride;
She must be mov'd; Perswasions may attaine;
If not, then rougher language must constraine:
She must diclose the Riddle, and discover
The bosome secrets of her faithfull Lover.

402

Medita. 10.

There is a time, to laugh: A time, to turne
Our smiles to teares: There is a time to mourn:
There is a time for joy, and a time for griefe,
A time to want, and a time to finde reliefe,
A time to binde, and there's a time to breake,
A time for silence, and a time to speake,
A time to labour, and a time to rest,
A time to fast in, and a time to feast:
Things, that are lawfull, have their times, and use;
Created good; and, onely by abuse,
Made bad: Our sinfull usage does unfashion
What heaven hath made, and makes a new creatiō:
Ioy is a blessing: but too great excesse
Makes Ioy, a madnesse, and, does quite unblesse
So sweet a gift; And, what, by moderate use;
Crownes our desiers, banes them in th'abuse:
Wealth is a blessing; But too eager thurst
Of having more, makes what we have, accurst:
Rest is a blessing; But when Rest withstands
The healthfull labour of our helpfull hands,
It proves a curse; and staines our guilt, with crime,
Betraies our irrecoverable time:
To feast and to refresh our hearts with pleasure,
And fill our soules with th'overflowing measure
Of heavens blest bounty, cannot but commend
The precious favours of so sweet a friend;
But, when th'abundance of a liberall diet,
Meant for a blessing, is abus'd by Riot,

403

Th'abused blessing, leaves the gift, nay, worse,
It is transform'd, and turn'd into a curse:
Things that afford most pleasure, in the use,
Are ever found most harmfull in the abuse:
Vse them like Masters; and their tyrannous hand
Subjects thee, like a slave, to their command;
Vse them as Servants; and they will obey thee;
Take heed; they'l either blesse thee, or betray thee.

Could our Fore fathers but revive, and see
Their Childrens Feasts, as now a dayes they bee:
Their studied dishes, Their restoring stuffe,
To make their wanton bodies sinne enough;
Their stomack-whetting Sallats, to invite
Their wastfull palat to an appetite;
Their thirst-procuring dainties, to refine
Their wanton tasts, and make them strong, for wine;
Their costly viands, charg'd with rich perfume;
Their Viper-wines, to make old age presume
To feele new lust, and youthfull flames agin,
And serve another prentiship to sinne:
Their time-betraying Musicke; their base noise
Of odious Fidlers; with their smooth-fac'd boyes,
Whose tongues are perfect, if they can proclame
The Quintessence of basenesse without shame;
Their deepe-mouth'd curses, new invented oathes,
Their execrable Blasphemy, that loathes
A minde to thinke on; their obsceaner words,
Their drunken Quarrels, their unsheathed swords:
O how they'd blesse themselves, & blush, for shame,
In our behalfs, and hast from whence they came,
To kisse their graves, that hid them from the crimes
Of these accursed and prodigious times.

Great God; O, can thy patient eye behold
This height of sinne, and can thy vengeance hold?

314

Sect. 11.

The Argvment.

The Philistins cannot unsolve
the Riddle: They corrupt the Bride;
She wooes her Bridegroome to resolve
her doubt, but goes away denyde.

Now whē three daies had run their howers out,
And left no hope for wit-forsaken doubt
To be resolv'd, the desp'rate undertakers
Conjoyn'd their whispring heads; (being all partakers
And joynt-advisers in their new-laid plot)
The time's concluded: Have ye not forgot
How the old Tempter, when he first began
To worke th'unhappy overthrow of man,
Accosts the simple woman; and reflects
Vpon the frailty of her weaker Sex;
Even so these curs'd Philistians (being taught
And tutor'd by the selfe same spirit) wrought
The selfesame way; Their speedy steps are bent
To the faire Bride; Their haste could give no vent
To their coarcted thoughts; their language made
A little respite; and, at length, they said;

Fairest of Creatures: Let thy gentle heart
Receive the crowne, due to so faire desert;
We have a Suite, that must attend the leisure
Of thy best thoughts, and joy-restoring pleasure;
Our names, and credits linger at the stake
Of deepe dishonour: If thou undertake,

315

With pleasing language, to prevent the losse,
They must sustaine, and draw them from the drosse
Of their owne ruines, they shall meerely owe
Themselves unto the goodnesse, and shall know
No other Patron, and acknowledge none,
As their redeemer, but thy love alone:
We cannot reade the Riddle, whereunto
We have engag'd our goods, and credits too;
Entice thy jolly Bridgroome; to unfold
The hidden Myst'ry, (what can he withhold
From the rare beauty of so rare a brow?)
And when thou knowst it, let thy servants know:
What? dost thou frowne? And must our easie triall;
At first, reade Hierogly thickes of deniall?
And art thou silent too? Nay, we'l give ore
To tempt thy Bridall fondnesse any more:
Betray your lovely husbands secrets? No,
You'l first betray us, and our land: but know,
Proud Samsons wife, our faries shall make good
Our losse of wealth and honour, in thy bloud:
Where faire entreaties spend themselves in vaine,
There fur shall consume, or else constraine.
Know then, falsehearted Bride, if our request
Can finde no place within thy sullen brest,
Our hands shall vindicate our lost desire,
And burne thy fathers house, and thee with fire:
Thus having lodg'd their errand in her cares,
They left the roome; and her, unto her feares;
Who thus bethought; hard is the case, that I
Must or betray my husbands trust, or dye;
I haue a Wolfe by th'eares: I dare be bold,
Neither with safety, to let goe, nor hold:
What shall I doe? Their mindes if I fulfill not,
'Tis death; And to betray his trust, I will not:

316

Nay, should my lips demand, perchance, his breath
Will not resolve me,: Then, no way, but death:
The wager is not great; Rather the strife
Were ended in his losse, than in my life;
His life consists in mine, I fought amisse
Befall my life, it may indanger his:
Wagers must yeeld to life; I hold it best,
Of necessary evils, to chuse the least:
Why doubt I then? when Reason bids me doe;
Ile 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,
Jf my desires be suiting to thy pleasure,
My lips would move a Suite; My doubtfull brest
Would faine preferre an undeny'd request:
Speake then (my joy): Let thy faire lips expound
That dainty Riddle, whose darke pleasure crown'd
Our first dayes feast; Enlighten my dull braine,
That, ever since, hath mus'd, and mu'sd in vaine;
Who, often smiling on his lovely Bride,
That longs to goe away resolv'd, reply'd;

Ioy of my heart, let not thy troubled brest
Take the denyall of thy small request,
As a defect of love: excuse my tongue
That must not grant thy suite without a wrong
To resolution, daring not discover
The hidden Myst'ry, till the time be over;
Cease to importune then, what cannot be;
My parents know it not, as well as thee:

317

In ought but this, thy Suite shall overcome me;
Excuse me then, and goe not angry from me.

Meditat. 11.

How apprehensive is the heart of Man
Of all, and onely those poore things that can
Lend him a minutes pleasure, and appay
His sweat but with the happinesse of a day!
How can he toyle for trifles, and take paine
For fading goods, that onely entertaine
His pleased thoughts with poore & painted showes,
Whose joy hath no more truth, than what it owes
To change! How are the objects of his musing
Worthlesse, and vaine, that perish in the using?
How reasonable are his poore desires,
The height of whose ambition, but aspires
To flitting shadowes, which can onely crowne
His labour, with that nothing, of their owne!
We feed on huskes, that might as well ataine
The fatted Calfe, by comming home againe:
And, like to Esau, while we are suppressing
Our present wants, neglect and lose the blessing:
How wise we are for things, whose pleasure cooles
Like breath; For everlasting joyes, what Fooles!
How witty, how ingeniously wise,
To save our credits, or to win a prize!
Wee plot; Our browes are studious. First we try
One way; If that succeed not, we apply
Our doubtfull mindes to attempt another course:
We take advice; consult; our tongues discourse

318

Of better wayes; and, what our failing braines,
Cannot effect with faire and fruitlesse paines;
There, crooked fraud must helpe, and flie deceit
Must lend a hand, which by the potent sleight
Of right-forsaking Bribry must betray
The prize into our hands, and win the day,
Which if it faile (it does but seldome faile)
Then open force, and fury must prevaile:
When strength of wit, and secret power of fraud
Grow dull, constraint must conquer, and applaud
With ill got vict'ry; which at length obtain'd,
Alas, how poore a trifle have we gain'd!
How are our soules distempered; to engrosse
Such fading pleasures! To ore-prize the drosse,
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 my learne
The diffrence of thy favours, and discerne
What's truely good, from what is good in part;
With Martha's trouble, give me Maries heart.

319

Sect. 12.

The Argvment.

The Bride she 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'early twilight now had chac'd away
The pride of night, and made her lay aside
Her spangled Robes, the discontented Bride
(Whose trobled thoghts were tyred 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 afflicted 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 deny'd to doe:
Perchance, my Fancy would have bin so kinde,
T'unsolve the doubts of my perplexed minde,
Twas 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

320

Some greater Suite, and Samson shall make good
Thy faire defiers with his dearest blood:
Speake then, my love; thou shalt not 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 woes 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 moistned 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 denyall)
Renewes her suit, and attempts a further tryall;
Entreats; conjures; she leaves no way untride:
She will not, no, she must not be denyd:
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 ore-come.

321

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 dye:
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,
Art lowly bended, and shall ne're give ore
To move thy goodnesse, that shall never rise,
Untill my Suit finde 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 J 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 replyde:
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,

322

I met, and grappled with a sturdy Lyon,
Having nor staffe nor weapon, to relie on,
I was enforc'd to prove my naked strength;
Vnequall was the match, but at the length,
This brawny 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,
Wherin 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 noyse, there did appeare
A swarme of Bees, whose busie labours fill'd
The Carkasse of that Lyon which I kill'd,
With Combes of Honey, wherewithall I fed
My lips and thine: And now my Riddle's read.

323

Medita. 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!

324

How is thy glorious Image soil'd, defac'd,
And stain'd with sinne! How are our thoughts displac'd!
How wav'ring 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 wils, to thine,
Thou'lt take a pleasure in us, and poore we
Should finde as infinite delight in Thee;
Our doubts would cease, our fears would al romove,
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.

325

Sect. 13.

The 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 fears
Cals in the Bridemen; and to them betraid,
The secret of the Riddle thus, and said:

You Sonnes of Thunder; Twas 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 wsre more apt to doe:
Know then (to keepe your lingring eares no longer
From what ye long to heare;) Ther'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)

326

The hopefull Bridegroome (he whose smiling brow
Assur'd his hopes a speedy Conquest now)
Even thirsting for victorious Triumph, 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 conquer'd prize: If not, The prize is mine:
With that, they join'd their whispring heads, and made
A Speaker; who in louder language, said;

Of all the sweets that ere were knowne,
Theres 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.

Where to 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 womans will!
How more accurs'd is he, that doth impart
His bosome-secrets to a womans heart;
They plead like Angell, 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!

327

No, Victors, no: Had not a womans minde
Bin faithlesse, and vnconstant, as the winde,
My Riddle had, till now, a Riddle bin;
You might have mus'd, and mist; and mus'd ag'n,
When the next day had heav'd his golden heat
From the soft pillow of his Sea-greene bed;
And, with his rising glory, had possest
The spatious borders of th'enlightened 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 flye,
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 thick 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 breath, he slue:
Their upper Garments, which he tooke away,
Were all the spoyles the Victor had, that day:
Wherewith, 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,

328

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 a while;
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.

329

Meditat. 13.

Was this that wombe, the Angel did enlarge
From barrennesse? And gave so strict a charge?
Was this that wōbe, 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 foot-steps must beware to tread
Vpon, or touch the carkasse of the dead?
May these revēge their wrongs, by blood? may these
Have power to kill, & murther where they please?

Tis 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, than art an undertaker,
To question with, or plead 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 touch the dead;

330

But if the God of Nazarites, bids kill
He may; and be a holy Nazarite still:

But stay! Is God like Man? Or can he border
Vpon confusion, that's the God of order?
The Persian Lawes no time may contradict;
And are the Lawes of God lesse firme and strict?

An earthly Parent wills his child to stand
And waite; within a while he gives command
(Finding the weaknesse of his sonne opprest
With wearinesse) that he sit downe and rest;
Is God unconstant then, because he pleases
To alter, what he wild us, for our eases?
Know, likewise, O ungratefull flesh and blood,
God limits his owne glory, for our good:
He is the God of mercy, and he prizes
Thine Asses life above his Sacrifices;
His Sabbath is his glory, and thy rest;
Hee'l lose some honour, ere thou lose a Beast:

Great God of mercy; O, how apt are wee
To rob thee of thy due, that art so free
To give unaskt! Teach me, O God, to know
What portion I deserve, and tremble too.

331

[Sect. 14.]

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That heare the newes) thus with himselfe besought;

It cannot be excus'd: It was a fault,
It was a foule one too; and, at first sight,
Too greate for love, or pardon to acquite:
O, had it beene a stranger, that betraid
Reposed secrets, I had onely laid
The blame upon my unadvised tongue;
Or had a common friend but done this wrong
To bosome trust, my patience might out warne it;
I could endur'd, I could have easily borne it;
But thus to be betraied by a wife,
The partner of my heart; to whom my life,
My very soule was not esteemed deare,
Is more than flesh, is more than bloud can beare:
But yet alas, She was but greene and young,
And had not gain'd the conquest of her tongue;
Vnseason'd vessells, oft will finde a leake
At first; but after held: She is but weake;
Nay, cannot yet write woman; which, at best,
Is a fraile thing: Alas young things will quest
At every turne; Indeed, to say the truth,
Her yeares could make it but a fault of youth:
Samson, returne; and let that fault be set
Vpon the score of youth: forgive, forget:
She is my wife: Her love hath power to hide
A fouler errour; Why should I diuide
My presence from her? There's no greater wrong
To love, than to be silent ever long:
Alas, poore soule! No doubt, her tender eye
Hath wept enough; perchance she knowes not why
“ I'm turn'd so great a stranger to her bed,
And boord: No doubt, her empty eyes have shed
A world of teares; perchance, her guiltlesse thought
Conceives my absence as a greater fault

234

Then that of late, her harmlesse errour did;
I'le goe and draw a reconciling Kid
From the faire flocke; My feet shall never rest,
Till J repose me in my Brides faire brest;
He went, but ere his speedy lips obtain'd
The merits of his haste, darknesse had stain'd
The cristall brow of day; and gloomy night
Had spoil'd and rifled heaven of all his light:
H' approacht the gates; but being entred in,
His carelesse welcome seem'd so cold and thin,
As if that silence meant, it should appeare,
He was no other, than a stranger there;
In every servants looke, he did espie
An easie Copie of their Masters eye;
He call'd his wife, but she was gone to rest;
Vnto her wonted chamber he addrest
His doubtfull steps; till by her father, staid,
Who taking him aside a little, said:
Sonne,

It was the late espousals that doe move
My tongue to use that title; not thy love:
'Tis true; there was a Marriage lately past
Betweene my childe and you; The knot was fast
And firmely tyed, not subject to the force
Of any power, but death, or else divorce:
For ought I saw, a mutuall desire
Kindled your likings, and an equall fire
Of strong affection, joyned both your hands
With the perpetuall knot of nuptiall bands;
Mutuall delight, and equall joyes attended
Your pleased hearts, untill the feast was ended;
But then I know no ground, (you know it best)
As if your loves were measur'd by the Feast,
The building fell, before the house did shake,

333

Loves fire was quencht, ere it began to slake;
All on a sudden were your ioyes disseis'd;
Forsooke your Bride, and went away displeas'd;
You left my child to the opprobrious tongues
Of open censure, whose malitious wrongs
(Maligning her faire merits) did defame
Her wounded honour, and unblemisht name;
I thought, thy love, which was so strong, of late,
Had on a sudden, turn'd to perfect hate:
At length, when as your longer absence did
Confirme my thoughts; and time had quite forbid
Our hopes t'expect a reaccesse of love,
Thinking some new affection did remove
Your heart, and that some second choice might smother
The first, I matcht your Bride unto another;
If we have done amisse, the fault must be
Imputed yours, and not to her, nor me;
But if your easie losse may be redeem'd
With her faire Sister (who; you know's esteem'd
More beautifull than she, and younger too)
She shall be firmely joyn'd by nuptiall vow,
And, by a present contract, shall become
Thy faithfull spouse, in her lost sisters roome:
With that poore Samson, like a man entranc'd,
And newly wakened, thus his voice advanc'd;

Presumptuus Philistine! That dost proceed
From the base loines of that accursed seed,
Branded for slaughter, and mark'd out for death;
And utter ruine; this my threatning breath
Shall blast thy nation; This revenging hand
Shall crush thy carkasse, and thy cursed land;
I'le give thy flesh to Ravens; and ravinous Swine
Shall take that rancke and tainted bloud of thine
For wash and swill, to quench their eager thirst,

334

Which they shall sucke, and guzzle till they burst;
I'le burne your standing Corne with flames of fire,
That none shall quench; I'le drag ye in the mire
Of your owne blouds, which shall ore-flow the land
And make your pasture barren as the sand;
This ruthlesse arme shall smite and never stay,
Vntill your land be turn'd a Golgotha;
And if my actions prove my words untrue,
Let Samson die, and be accurs'd, as you.

Medit. 14.

God is the God of peace: And if my brother
Strike me on one cheeke, must I turn the other?
God is the God of mercy; And his childe
Must be as he his, Mercifull and milde;
God is the God of Love: But sinner know,
His love abus'd, hee's God of vengeance too.
Is God the God of vengeance? And may none
Revenge his private wrongs, but he alone?
What meanes this franticke Nazarite to take
Gods office from his hand, and thus to make
His wrongs amends? Who warranted his breath
To threaten ruine, and to thunder death?

Curious Inquisitor; when God shall strike
By thy stout arme, thy arme may doe the like:
His Patent gives him power to create
A deputie; to whom he doth collate
Assistant power, in sufficient measure,
To exercise the office of his pleasure;
A lawfull Prince is Gods Lieutenant here:
As great a Maiesty as flesh can beare,
He is endued with all; In his bright eye

335

(Cloath'd in the flames of Majesty) doth lie
Both life and death; into his royall heart
Heaven doth inspire, and secretly impart
The treasure of his Lawes; Into his hand
He thrusts his sword of Iustice and Command:
He is Gods Champion; where his voice bids, kill,
He must not feare t'imbrew his hands, and spill,
Abundant bloud; Who gives him power to doe,
Will finde him guiltlesse, and assist him too:
O, but let flesh and bloud take heed, that none
Pretend Gods quarrell, to revenge his owne;
Malice and base Revenge must step aside,
When heavens uprighter Battels must be tride.

Where carnall glory, or ambitious thurst
Of simple conquest, or revenge, does burst
Vpon a neighbouring Kingdome; there to thrust
Into anothers Crowne, the warre's not just;
'Tis but a private quarrell; and bereft
Of lawfull grounds; 'Tis but a Princely theft:
But where the ground's Religion; to defend
Abused faith, let Princes, there, contend,
With dauntles courage: May their acts be glorious;
Let them goe, prosperous; and returne victorious:
What if the grounds be mixt? Feare not to goe;
Were not the grounds of Sampsons Combate so?
Goe then with double courage and renowne,
When God shall mixe thy quarrels with his owne:
'Tis a brave conflict; and a glorious Fray,
Where God and Princes shall divide the Prey.

336

Sect. 15.

The Argvment.

He burnes their standing corne; makes void
Their Land: The Philistines enquire
The cause of all their evill; destroy'd
The Timnite, and his house with fire.

As ragefull Samsons threatning language ceast,
His resolution of revenge increast;
Vengeance was in his thoughts, and his desire
Wanted no fuell to maintaine her fire:
Passion grew hot and furious, whose delay
Of execution, was but taking day
For greater payment: His revengefull heart
Boild in his brest; whilst Fury did impart
Her readie counsels, whose imperious breath,
Could whisper nothing, under bloud, and death:
Revenge was studious, quickned his conceit,
And screw'd her Engins to the very height:
At length, when time had rip'ned his desires,
And puffing rage had blowne his secret fires
To open flame, now ready for confusion,
He thus began t'attempt his first conclusion;

The patient Angler, first provides his baite,
Before his hopes can teach him to awaite
Th'enjoyment of his long expected prey;
Revengefull Samson, ere he can appay
His wrongs with timely vengeance, must intend
To gaine the Instruments, to worke his end;
He plants his Engines, hides his snares about,
Pitches his Toiles, findes new devices out,

337

To tangle wilie Foxes; In few dayes,
(That land had store) his studious hand betrayes
A leash of hundreds, which he thus imploye
As Agents in his rashfull enterprize;
With tough, and force-enduring thongs of Leth,
He joynes and couples taile, and taile together,
And every thong bound in a Brand of fire,
So made by Art, that motion would inspire
Continuall flames, and as the motion ceast,
The thriftie blaze would then retire and rest
In the close brand, untill a second strife
Gave it new motion; and that motion, life:
Soone as these coupled Messengers receiv'd
Their fiercy Errand, though they were bereiv'd
Of power to make great hast, they made good speed;
Their thoughts were diffring, though their tailes agreed:
T'one drags and draws to th'East; the other, West;
One fit, they runne, another while they rest;
T'one skulks and snarles, the t'other tugges and hales;
At length, both flee, with fire in their tailes,
And in the top and height of all their speed,
T'one stops before the other bee agreed;
The other pulls, and dragges his fellow backe,
Whilst both their tailes were tortur'd on the racke;
At last both weary of their warme Embassage,
Their better ease discride a fairer passage,
And time hath taught their wiser thoughts to joyne
More close, and travell in a straiter line:
Into the open Champion they divide
Their straggling paces (where the ploughmans pride
Found a faire object, in his rip'ned Corne;
Whereof, some part was reapt; some, stood unshorne)
Sometimes the fiery travellers would seeke
Protection beneath a swelling Reeke;

338

But soone that harbour grew too hot for stay,
Affording onely light, to runne away;
Sometimes, the full-ear'd standing wheat must cover
And hide their flames; and there the flames would hover
About their cares, and send them to enquire
A cooler place; but there the flaming fire
Would scorch their hides; & send thē sindg'd away;
Thus doubtfull where to goe, or where to stay,
They range about; flee forward, then retire;
Now here, now there, wher ere they come, they fire:
Nothing was left, that was not lost, and burn'd;
And now, that fruitfull land of Iewry's turn'd
A heape of Ashes; That faire land, while ere
Which fild all hearts with joy, and every eare
With newes of plenty, and of blest encrease,
(The ioyfull issue of a happy peace)
See, how it lies in her owne ruines, void
Of all her happinesse, disguis'd, destroyd:
With that the Philistines, whose sad reliefe
And comfort's deeply buried in their griefe,
Began to question (they did all partake
In th'irrecoverable losse) and spake,

What cursed brand of Hell? What more than Devill,
What envious Miscreant hath done this evill?
Whereto one sadly standing by, replide;

It was that cursed Samson (Whose faire Bride
Was lately ravisht from his absent brest
By her false father) who before the feast
Of nuptiall was a month expir'd, and done,
By second marriage, own'd another Sonne;
For which this Samson heav'd from off the henge
Of his lost reason, studied this revenge;
That Timnits falshood wrought this desolation;
Samson the Actor was, but he, th'occasion:

339

With that they all consulted to proceed
In height of Iustice, to revenge this deed;
Samson whose hand was the immediat cause
Of this foule act, is stronger than their lawes;
Him, they referre to time; For his proud hand
May bring a second ruine to their land;
The cursed Timnite, he that did divide
The lawfull Bridgroome from his lawfull Bride,
And mov'd the patience of so strong a foe,
To bring these evils, and worke their overthrow,
To him they haste; and with resolv'd desire
Of bloud, they burne his house, & him with fire.

Meditat. 15.

Dost thou not tremble? does thy troubled eare
Not tingle? nor thy spirits faint to heare
The voice of those, whose dying shriekes proclaime
Their tortures, that are broyling in the flame?
She, whose illustrious beautie did not know
Where to be matcht, but one poore houre agoe;
She, whose faire eyes were apt to make man erre
From his knowne faith, and turne Idolater;
She, whose faire cheeks, inricht with true complexion,
Seem'd Beauties store-house of her best perfection;
See how she lies, see how this beautie lies,
A foule offence, unto thy loathing eyes;
A fleshly Cinder, lying on the floore
Starke naked, had it not beene covered ore
With bashfull ruines, which were fallen downe
From the consumed roofe, and rudely throwne
On this halfe roasted earth. O; canst thou reade
Her double storie, and thy heart not bleed?

340

What art thou more than she? Tell me wherein
Art thou more priviledg'd? Or can thy sinne
Plead more t'excuse it? Art thou faire and young?
Why so was she: Were thy temptations strong?
Why so were hers: What canst thou plead, but she
Had power to plead the same, as well as thee?
Nor was't her death alone, could satisfie
Revenge; her father, and his house must die:
Vnpunisht crimes doe often bring them in,
That were no lesse than strangers to the sinne:
Ely must die; because his faire reproofe
Of too foule sinne, was not austere enough:
Was vengeance now appeas'd? Hath not the crime
Paid a sufficient Intrest for the time?
Remove thine eye to the Philistian fields
See what increase their fruitfull harvest yeelds:
There's nothing there, but a confused heape
Of ruinous Ashes: There's no corne to reape:
Behold the poyson of unpunisht sinne:
For which the very earth's accurst againe:
Famine must act her part; her griping hand,
For one mans sinne must punish all the land:
Is vengeance now appeas'd? Hath sinne given ore
To cry for plagues? Must vengeance yet have more?
O, now th'impartiall sword must come; and spill
The bloud of such, as famine could not kill:
The language of unpunisht sinne cryes loud,
It roares for Iustice, and it must have bloud:
Famine must follow, where the fire begun;
The sword must end, what both have left undone.

Iust God! our sinnes doe dare thee to thy face;
Our score is great, our Ephah fills apace;
The leaden cover threatens every minut,
To close the Ephah, and our sinnes within it.

341

Turne backe thine eye: Let not thine eye behold
Such vile pollutions: Let thy vengeance hold:
Looke on thy dying Sonne, there shalt thou spie
An object, that's more fitter for thine eye;
His sufferings (Lord) are farre above our finnes:
O, looke thou there; Ere Iustice once begins
T'unsheath her sword: O let one precious drop
Fall from that pierced side, and that will stop
The eares of vengeance, from that clamorous voice
Of our loud sinnes, which make so great a noise:
O, send that drop, before Revenge begins,
And that will crie farre louder than our sinnes.

Sect. 16.

The Argvment.

He makes a slaughter; Doth remove
To Etans rocke, where to repay him
The wrongs that he had done, they move
The men of Iudah to betray him.

Thus when th'accurs'd Philistians had appaid
The Timnits sinne, with ruine: and betraid
Th'unjust Offenders to their fierce desire,
And burn'd their cursed Family with fire:
Samson, the greatnesse of whose debt deni'd
So short a payment; and whose wrongs yet cride
For further vengeance, to be further laid
Vpon the sinne-conniving Nation, said,

Vnjust Philistians, you that could behold
So capital a crime, and yet with-hold
This well deserved punishment so long;
Which made you partners in their sinne, my wrong;

342

Hadyee at first, when as the fault was young,
Before that Time had lent her clamorous tongue
So great a strength to call for so much bloud;
O, hid your earlie Justice but thought good
To strike in time; nay, had you then devis'd
Some easier punishment, it had suffic'd;
But now it comes too late; The sinne has cryed,
Till heaven hath heard, and mercy is denied:
Nay, had the sinne but spar'd to roare so loud,
A drop had serv'd, when now a Tide of bloud
Will hardly stop her mouth:
Had ye done this betimes! But now, this hand
Must plague your persons, and afflict your land:

Have ye beheld a youth-instructing Tutor,
(Whose wisdome's seldome seene, but in the future)
When well deserved punishment shall call
For the delinquent Boy; how, first of all,
He preaches fairely; then proceeds austerer
To the foule crime, whilst the suspitious hearer
Trembles at every word, untill at length,
His language being ceas'd, th'unwelcome strength
Of his rude arme, that often proves too rash,
Strikes home, and fetches bloud at every lash:
Even so stout Samson, whose more gentle tongue,
In easie tearmes, doth first declare tho wrong,
In justice did, then tells the evill effects
That mans connivence, and unjust neglects
Does often bring upon th'afflicted land;
But, at the last, upheaves his ruthlesse hand;
He hewes, he hacks, and furie being guide,
His unresisted power doth divide
From top to toe; his furious weapon cleft,
Where ere it strucke: It slue, and never left,
Vntill his flesh-destroying arme, at length,

343

Could finde no subject, where t'imploy his strength:
Here stands a head-strong Steed, whose fainting guider
Drops down; another drags his wounded rider:
Now here, now there his franticke arme would thunder
And at one stroake, cleaves horse & man in sunder,
In whose mixt bloud, his hands would oft embrue,
And where so ere they did but touch, they slew:
Here's no imployment for the Surgeons trade,
All wounds were mortall that his weapon made;
Theres none was left, but dying, or else dead,
And onely they, that scap'd his fury, fled;
The slaughter ended, the proud victor past
Through the afflicted land, untill at last,
He comes to Judah; where he pitcht his tent,
At the rocke Etan: There some time he spent;
He spent not much, till the Philistian band,
That found small comfort in their wasted land,
Came up to Judah and there pitch'd not farre
From Samsons tent; their hands were arm'd to warre:
With that the men of Judah, strucke with feare,
To see so great an Armie, straite drew neere,
To the sad Campe; who, after they had made
Some signes of a continued peace, they said;

What new designes have brought your royall band
Vpon the borders of our peacefull land?
What strange adventures? What disastrous weather
Drove you this way? What businesse brought you hether?
Let not my Lords be angry, or conceive
“ An evill against your Servants: What we have,
“ Is yours; The peacefull plentie of our land
“ And we, are yours, and at your owne command:
“ Why, to what purpose are you pleas'd to shew us
“ Your strength! Why bring you thus an Army to us?
“ Are not our yearly tributes justly paid?

344

Have we not kept our vowes? have we delaid
Our faithfull service, or denied to doe it,
When you have pleas'd to call your servants to it?
Have we, at any time, upon your triall,
Shrunke from our plighted faith, or prov'd disloyall?
If that proud Samson have abus'd your land,
'Tis not our faults; Alas, we had no hand
In his designes: We lent him no releefe;
No aid; No, we were partners in your griefe.
Where to the Philistines, whose hopes relyde
Vpon their faire assistance, thus replyde:

Feare not yee men of Iudah; Our intentions
Are not to wrong your peace: Your apprehensions
Are too toe-timerous; Our desires are bent
Against the common Foe, whose hands have spent
Our lavish bloud, and rob'd our wasted land
Of all her joyes: Tis he, our armed band
Expects, and followes: He is cloystred here,
Within your Quarters: Let your faiths appeare
Now in your loyall actions, and convay
The skulking Rebell to us, that we may
Revenge our bloud, which he hath wasted thus,
And doe to him, as he hath done to us.

Meditat. 16.

It was a sharpe revenge: But was it just?
Shall one man suffer for another? Must
The childrens teeth be set on edge, because
Their fathers ate the grapes? Are heavens lawes
So strict? whose lips did, with a promise, tell,
That no such law should passe in Israel:
Because the injurous Timnits treacherous hand

345

Commits the fault, must Samson scourge the land?
Sinne is a furious plague, and it infects
The next inhabitant, if he neglects
The meanes t'avoid it: Tis not because he sinnes
That thou art punisht: No, it then begins
T'infect thy soule; when, thou a stander by,
Reprov'st it not: or when thy carelesse eye
Slights it as nothing: If a sinne of mine
Grieve not thy wounded soule, it becomes thine.
Thinke yee that God commits the Sword of power
Into the hands of Magistrates, to scower
And keep it bright? Or onely to advance
His yet unknowne Authority? Perchance,
The glorious Hilt and Scabberd make a show
To serve his turne, have it a blade, or no,
He neither knowes, nor cares: Is this man fit
T'obtaine so great an honor, as to sit
As Gods Lievtenant, and to punish sinne?
Know leaden Magistrates, and know agin,
Your Sword was giv'n to draw, and to be dyde
In guilty blood, not to be layd aside
At the request of friends, or for base feare,
Lest when your honor's ended with the yeare,
Ye may be baffled: 'tis not enough that you
Finde bread be waight, or that the waights be true:
'Tis not enough, that every foule disorder
Must be refer'd to your more wise Recorder:
The charge is given to you: You must returne
A faire account, or else, the Land must mourne:
You keepe your swords too long a season in,
And God strikes us, because you strike not sinne:
Y'are too remisse, and want a Resolution:
Good Lawes lie dead for lack of execution:
An oath is growne so bold, that it will laugh

346

The easie Act, to scorne: Nay, we can quaffe
And reele with priviledge: and we can trample
Vpon our shame-shrunke cloakes, by your example:
You are too dull: too great offences passe
Vntoucht; God loves no service from the Asse;
Rouze up, O use the spurre, and spare the bridle,
God strikes, because your swords, and you are idle;
Grant Lord that every one may mend a fault;
And then our Magistrates may stand for nought.

Sect. 17.

The Argvment.

The faithlesse men of Iudah went
To make him subject to their bands:
They bound him by his owne consent,
And brought him prisoner to their hands.

So said: The men of Iudah (whose base feare
Taught them to open an obedient eare
To their revengefull and unjust request)
Accept the treacherous motion, and addrest
Their slavish thoughts, to put in execution
The subject of their seruile resolution:
With that, three thousand of their ablest men
Are soone employ'd; To the fierce Lyons den
They come, (yet daring not approach too neare)
And sent this louder language to his eare;

Victorious Samson, whose renowned facts
Have made the world a Register of thy acts;
Great Army of men, the wonder of whose power
Gives thee the title of a walking Tower,

347

Why hast thou' thus betraid us to the hand
Of the accurs'd Philistines? Thou know'st our Land
Does owe it selfe to thee; There's none can clame
So great an interest in our hearts: Thy name,
Thy highly honour'd name, for ever, beares
A welcome Accent in our joyfull eares;
But now the times are dangerous, and a band
Of proud Philistians quarter in our land;
And for thy sake, the tyranie of their tongues
Hath newly threatned to revenge the wrongs
Vpon our peacefull lives: Their lips have vow'd
And sworne to salve their injuries with our bloud;
Their jealous fury hollowes in our eares,
They'l plague our Land, as thou hast plagued theirs:
If we refuse to doe their fierce command,
And bring not Samson prisoner to their hand;
Alas, thou know'st our servile necks must bow
To their imperious. Yoke; Alas, our vow
Of loyalty is past: If they bid, doe;
We must; or lose our lands, and our lifes too,
Were but our lifes in hazard, or if none
Should feele the smart of death, but we alone,
Wee'd turne thy Martyrs, rather than obey'm,
Wee'd die with Samson sooner than betray'm;
But we have wifes, and children, that would be
The subjects of their rage, as well as wee:
Wherefore submit thy person, and fulfill
What we desire so much against our will:
Alas our griefes in equall poisure lye;
Teeld, and thou dyest: yeeld not, and we must die:
Where to sad Samson, whose faire thoughts did guide
His lips to fairer language, thus replide;
Te men of Iudah, what distrustfull thought
Of single Samsons violence hath brought

348

So great a strength, as if you meant t'orethrow
Some mighty Monarch, or surprise a Foe!
Your easie errand might as well bin done
By two or three, or by the lips of one;
The meanest child of holy Israels seede
Might conquer'd Samson with a bruised reede:
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, than you;
My comming is on a more faire designe,
I come to crush your tyranous foes, and mine,
I come to free your countrey, and recall
Your servile souldiers 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 faithfull Champion to those bands, that lay
Perpetuall burdens on, which dayly vex
Your galled shoulders, and your servile neckes:
The wrongs these cursed Philistines have done
My simple innocence, have quite outrunne
My easie patience: If my arme may right
My too much injur'd sufferance, 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, 'Tis well: But they that doe
Attempt to ruine me, will ransacke you:
First, you shall firmely' engage your plighted troth,
By the acceptance of a sacred oath,

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That when I shall be pris'ner 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 band unto,
And raze their seed, Jf we attempt to doe
Bound Samson violence; And if this curse
Be not sufficient, heaven contrive a worse:
With that the willing prisoner joyn'd his hands,
To be subjected to their stronger bands:
With treble twisted cords, that never tried
The twitch of strength, their busie 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,
Pend by an Angels quill; not understood
By the too dull conceit of flesh and bloud!
Vnkinde Judeans, what have you presented
Before your eyes? O, what have you attented!

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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, he whose snowy arme had power
To crush you all to nothing, and to shower
Downe strokes like thunderbolts, whose blasting breath
Might in a moment, puft 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 bloud
Hath power to save more worlds, than Noahs floud
Destroyed bodies; thou, O thou that art
The Samson of our soules, How can the heart
Of man give thankes enough, that does not know
How much his death-redeemed soule does owe
To thy deare merits? We can apprehend
No more than flesh and bloud 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; nor can our hearts attaine
Those joyes that thou hast purchas'd in our name,
Nor yet the price thou paidst: our thoughts are lāe,
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 peverty; We know
Thy blessed hands (that might bin freed) were boūd,
We know, alas, thy bleeding browes were crown'd

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With pricking thorne; Thy body torne with whips;
Thy palmes impeirc'd with ragged nailes; Thy lips
Saluted with a Traitors kisse; Thy browes
Sweating forth bloud: Thy oft repeated 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 burden of our guilt, and Scroule
Of all our sinnes, and horrid paines of Hell)
O, what that soule endur'd, what soule can tell!

Sect. 18.

The Argvment.

He breakes their bands; And with a bone
A thousand Philistians he slue:
Hee thirsted; fainted; made his moane
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 than the greatnesse of their joyes
Required: Some, with sudden death would greet
The new come Guest; whilst 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;
Come cry, 'Tis fittest that th'Offender bleed
There where his cursed hands had done the deed:

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Others cryed, No, where Fortune hath consign'd him,
Wee'le kill 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 ye beheld a single thred of flax,
Touch'd by the fire, how the fire 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, & freed his loosned hands;
He stoop'd; from off the bloud-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 flesh-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 with mirth;
Let all Iudea know,
And tell the Princes of the earth
How strong an arme hast thou:

353

How has thy dead enricht the land
And purpled ore the grasse,
That hadst no weapon in thy hand,
But the jaw-bone of an Asse!
How does thy strength and high renowne
The glory of men surpasse!
Thine arme has strucke a thousand downe,
With the jaw-bone of an Asse:
Let Samsons glorious name endure,
Till Time shall render One,
Whose greater glory shall obscure
The glory thou hast wone.

His song being ended, rising from the place
Whereon he lay, he turn'd his ruthlesse face
Vpon those heapes his direfull hand had made,
And op'ning of his thirsty lips, he said:

Great God of conquest, thou by whose command
The heart received courage, and this hand
Strength, to revenge thy quarrels, and fulfill
The secret motion of thy sacred will;
What, shall thy Champion perish now with thirst?
Thou knowst, I have done nothing, but what first
Was warranted by thy command: 'Twas thou
That gave my spirit boldnesse, and my brow
A resolution: 'Tis mine arme did doe
No more, than what thou didst enjoyne me to:
And shall I die for thirst? O thou that sav'd
Me from the Lyons rage, that would have rav'd
Vpon my life: by whom J have subdu'd
Thy cursed enemies, and have imbru'd
My heaven-commanded hands, in a spring-tyde
Of guilty bloud; Lord, shall J be denyde
A draught of cooling water to allay
The tyranny of my thirst? J, that this day

354

Have labourd in thy Vineyard; rooted out
So many weeds, whose lofty crests did sprout
Above thy trodden Vines; what, shall I dye
For want of water, thou the fountaine by?
I know that thou wert here, for had'st thou not
Supplyde my hand with strength, I ne're had got
So strange a vict'rie: Hath thy servant taken
Thy worke in hand, and is he now forsaken?
Hast thou not promis'd that my strengthned hand
Shall scourge thy Foe-men, and secure thy Land
From slavish bondage? will that arme of thine
Make me their slave, whom thou hast promist mine?
Bow downe thy eare, and heare my needfull crye;
O, quench my thirst, great God, or else I dye:
With that the jaw, wherewith his arme had laid
So many sleeping in the dust, obeyde
The voice of God, and cast a tooth, from whence
A sudden spring arose, whose confluence
Of chrystall waters, plenteously disburst
Their precious streames; and so allaid his thurst.

Meditat. 18.

The jaw bone of an Asse? how poore a thing
God makes his powerfull Instrument to bring

355

Some honour to his name, and to advance
His greater glory! came this bone, by chance,
To Samsons hand? Or could the Army goe
No further? but must needs expect a foe
Iust where his weapon of destruction lay?
Was there no fitter place, for them to stay,
But even just there? How small a thing 't had bin
(If they had beene so provident) to winne
The day with ease? Had they but taken thence
That cursed bone, what colour of defence
Had Samson found? Or how could he withstood
The necessary danger of his bloud?

Where Heav'n doth please to ruine, humane wit
Must faile, and deeper policie must submit:
There, wisdome must be fool'd, & strength of braine
Must worke against it selfe, or worke in vaine:
The tracke that seemes most likely, often leads
To death; and where securitie most pleads,
There, dangers, in their fairest shapes, appeare,
And give us not so great a helpe, as feare:
The things we least suspect are often they,
That most affect our ruine, and betray:
Who would have thought, the silly Asses bone,
Not worth the spurning, should have overthrowne
So stout a band? Heav'n oftentimes thinkes best,
To overcome the greatest with the least:
He gaines most glory in things, that are most slight,
And winnes in honour, what they want in might:
Who would have thought that Samsons deadly thurst
Should have bin quencht with waters, that did burst
And flow from that dry bone? who would not thinke
The thirstie Conquerour, for want of drinke,
Should first have died? what mad man could presume
So dry a tooth should yeeld so great a Rheume?

356

God does not worke like man; nor is he tyed
To outward meanes: His pleasure is his guide,
Not Reason: He, that is the God of nature,
Can worke against it: He that is Creator
Of all things, can dispose them, to attend
His will, forgetting their created end:
Hee whose Almighty power did supply
This bone with water, made the red Sea dry:

Great God of nature, 'Tis as great an ease
For thee to alter nature, if thou please,
As to create it; Let that hand of thine
Shew forth thy powre, and please to alter mine:
My sinnes are open, but my sorrow's hid;
I cannot drench my couch, as David did;
My braines are marble, and my heart is stone:
O strike mine eyes, as thou didst strike that bone.

Sect. 19.

The Argvment.

He lodgeth with a Harlot: Wait
Is laid, and guardes are pitcht about;
He beeres away the City gate
Vpon his shoulders, and goes out.

Thus when victorious Samson had unliv'd
This hoast of armed men; and had reviv'd
His fainting spirits, and refresht his tongue
With those sweet christal streames, that lately sprūg
From his neglected weapon, he arose
(Secured from the tyrannie of his Foes

357

By his Heaven-borrowed strength) & boldly came
To a Philistian City, knowne by th'name
Of Azza; where, as he was passing by,
The carelesse Champion cast his wandring eye
Vpon a face, whose beauty did invite
His wanton heart to wonder and delight:
Her curious haire was crisp'd: Her naked brest
Was white as Ivory, and fairely drest
With costly Iewells: In her glorious face,
Nature was hidden, and dissembled grace
Damaskt her rosie cheekes: Her eyes did sparke,
At every glance, like Diamonds in the darke;
Bold was her brow; whose frowne was but a foile
To glorifie her better-pleasing smile;
Her pace was carelesse, seeming to discover
The passions of a discontented Lover:
Sometime, her opned Casement gives her eye
A twinckling passage to the passer by;
And, when her fickle fancy had given ore
That place, she comes, and wantons at the doore;
There Samson view'd her, and his steps could finde
No further ground; but (guided by his minde)
Cast Anchor there: Have thy observing eyes
Ere mark'd the Spiders garbe, How close she lies
Within her curious webbe; And by and by,
How quicke she hastes to her intangled Flie;
And whispring poyson in her murmuring eares,
At last, she tugges her silent guest, and beares
His Hampred body to the inner roome
Of her obscure and solitary Home;
Even so this snaring beauty entertaines
Our eye-led Samson, tampred with the chaines
Of her imperious eyes; and he, that no man
Could conquer; now lies conquered by a woman:

358

Faire was his welcome, and as fairely exprest
By her delicious language, which profest
No lesse affection than so sweet a friend,
Could, with her best expressions, recommend:
Into her glorious chamber she directs
Her welcome guest, and with her faire respects
She entertaines him; with a bountious kisse,
She gives him 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 bowre;
Cheare up my Love; and looke vpon 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 rubey 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 die: Behold,
My covrinsg 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 City, 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

359

Betray him to his sudden death; and so
Revenge their kingdomes ruines at a blow:
But lustfull Samson (whose distrustfull eares
Kept open house) was now possest with feares:
He 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 soule a deed:
Samson, with greater and vnwonted speed
Leapes from his wanton bed; his feares doe presse
More haste to cloath; than 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 barres, and pillers all away;
So scap'd the rage of the Philistian band,
That still must owe his ruine, to their land.

Medit. 19.

How weake, at strongest, is poore flesh & blood!
Samson, the greatnes of whose power withstood
A little world of armed men, with death,
Must now be foyled with a womans breath:

360

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 bloud was able to inherit,
Must have a fall to exercise his feares,
And make him drowne his restics couch with tears:
Wise Salomon, within whose heart was planted
The fruitfull stockes of heavenly wisdome, wanted
Not that, whereby his weakenesse understood
The perfect vanity of flesh and bloud:
Whose hand seem'd prodigall of his Isaacs 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, land entirely good,
He were not man: he were not flesh and blood:
Or should he never fall, he would at length,
Not see his weakenesse, and presume in strength:
Ere children know the sharpnesse of the Edge,
They thinke, their fingers have a priveledge
Against a wound; but having felt the knife,
A bleeding finger, sometime saves a life:

Lord, we are children, & our sharpe-edg'd knives,
Together with our bloud, lets 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

361

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.

Sect. 20.

The Argvment.

He falls in league with Delila:
The Nobles bribe her to discover
Her Samsons strength, and learne the way
To binde her arme-prevailing Lover.

Not farre from Azza, in a fruitfull Valley
Close by a brooke, whose silver streams did dalley
With the smooth bosome of the wanton sands,
Whose winding current parts the neighbring lands,
And often washes the beloved sides
Of her delightfull bankes, with gentle tydes;
There dwelt a Beauty, in whose Sunne-bright eye,
Love sate inthron'd; and full of Majestie,
Sent forth such glorious eye-surprizing rayes,
That she was thought the wonder of her dayes:
Her name was called Delila, the faire;
Thither did amorous Samson oft repaire,
And with the piercing flame of her bright eye,
He toy'd so long; that like a wanton flye
He burnt his lustfull wings, and so became
the slavish prisner to that conquering flame:

362

She askt, and had: There's nothing was too high
For her, to beg; or Samson to denie:
Who now, but Delila? What name can raise
And crowne his drooping thoughts, but Delila's?
All time's mispent, each houre is cast away,
That's not imploy'd upon his Delila:
Gifts must be given to Delila: No cost,
If sweetest Delila but smile, is lost:
No ioy can please; no happinesse can crowne
His best desires, if Delila but frowne:
No good can blesse his amorous heart, but this,
Hee's Delila's, and Delila is his:
Now, when the louder breath of fame had blowne
Her newes-proclaiming Trumpet, & made knowne
This Lovers passion, to the joyfull eares
Of the cow'd Philistines; their nimble feares
Advis'd their better hopes, not to neglect
So faire advantage, which may bring t'effect
Their best desires, and right their wasted Land
Of all her wrongs, by a securer hand:
With that, some few of the Philistian Lords
Repaire to Delila; with baited words
They tempt the frailty of the simple maid,
And, having sworne her to their counsell, said:

Faire Delila; Thou canst not chuse but know
The miseries of our land: whose ruines show
The danger, whereinto not we, but all,
If thou deny thy helpefull hand, must fall:
Those fruitfull fields, that offer'd, but of late,
Their plenteous favours to our prosperous state;
See, how they lie a ruinous heape, and void
Of all their plenty; wasted, and destroyde:
Our common foe hath sported with our lives:
Hath slaine our children, and destroy'd our wives:

363

Alas, our poore distressed land doth grone
Vnder that mischiefe that his hands have done;
Widowes implore thee, and poore Orphans tongues
Call to faire Delila, to right their wrongs:
It lies in thee, to help; Thy helpefull hand
May haue the Glory to revenge thy land;
For which our thankefull Nation shall allow
Not onely honour, but reward; and thou,
From every hand that's present here, shalt gaine
Aboue a thousand Sicles for thy paine:
To whom, faire Delila, whom reward had tied
To satisfie her owne desires, replied;
My Lords;
My humble service I acknowledge due,
Fist, to my native country; next, to you:
If Heaven, and Fortune, have enricht my hand,
With so much power, to relieve our Land,
When ere your honours please to call me to it,
Beleeve it Delila shall die, or doe it:
Say then (my Lords) wherein my power may doe
This willing Service to my land, or you.
Thou knowest, (say they) No forces can wishstand
The mighty strength of cursed Samsons hand;
He ruines Armies, and does overthrow
Our greatest Bands, nay, kingdomes at a blow;
The limits of his, more then manly, powers
Are not confin'd, nor is his Arme like ours:
His strength is more then man; his conquering Arme
Hath, sure, th'assistance of some potent charme;
Which, nothing but the glory of thine eyes,
(Wherein a farre more strong enchantment lies;)
Can overthrow: He's prisoner to thine eye,
Nor canst thou aske, what Samson can deny:
The sweetnesse of thy language hath the Art,

364

To dive into the secrets of his heart;
Move Samson then: unbarre his bolted brest,
And let his deafned eares attaine no rest,
Vntill his eye-inchanted tongue replyes,
And tells thee, where his hidden power lyes:
Urge him to whisper in thy private eare,
And to repose his magicke mystr'y, there;
How, by what meanes, his strength may be betray'd
To bonds, and how his power may be allaid;
That we may right these wrongs, which his proud hand
Hath rudely offer'd to our ruinous land:
In this, thou shalt obtaine the reputation
To be the sole redeemer of thy Nation,
Whose wealth shall crowne thy loyalty with a meed
Due to the merits of so faire a deed:
Whereto, faire Delila (whose heart was tyed
To Samsons love, for her owne ends;) replied:

My honourable Lords: If my successe
In these your just imployments prove no lesse
Then my desiers, I should thinke my paines
Rewarded in the Action: Jf the raines
Of Samsons headstrong power were in my hands,
These lips should vow performance: Your commands
Should worke obedience, in the loyall brest
Of your true servant; who would never rest,
Till she had done the deed: But know, my Lords,
Jf 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 imploy'd: Ile make a sudden triall;
And quickly speed, or finde a foule deniall.

365

Meditat. 20.

Insatiate Samson! Could not Azza smother
Thy flaming Lust; but must thou finde another?
Is th'old growne stale? And seekst 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, desires, endeavours;
At last enjoyes; but (like to men, in Feavours,
Who fancy alway those things that are worst)
The more it drinks, the more it is athirst:
The fruitfull earth (whose nature is the worse
For sin; 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 Metals, unto Gold;
O, but that sin-procured curse hath chill'd
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

366

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 shee at Wealth? alas, her proud desire
Strives for the best; but failing to mount higher
Than earth, her errour 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 wings 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 grovels on the Dust,
And, there, she lights upon a carnall Lust:
Yet nerethelesse, th'aspring Soule desires
A perfect good; but, wanting those sweet fires,
Whose heate should perfect her unrip'ned will,
Cleaves to th'apparent Good, which Good is ill;
Whose sweet enjoyment, being farre unable
To give a satisfaction answerable
To her unbounded wishes, leaves a thirst
Of re-enjoyment, greater than the first.

Lord; When our fruitlesse fallowes are growne cold;
And out of heart, we can inrich the mould
With a new heate; wee 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 Husbandry?
They beare no other bulke, but idle weeds,
Alas, they have no heart, no heate; Thy seedes

367

Are cast away, untill thou please t'enspire
New strength, & quench them with thy sacred fire:
Stirre thou my Fallowes, and enrich my mould,
And they shal bring thee' encrease, a hundred fold.

Sect. 21.

The 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 chuse 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 lockes; sometimes, would brai'd
His long dishevell'd hair; her eyes, one while
Would steale a glance upon his eyes, and smile;
And, thē, her crafty lips would speak; 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, 'tis nothing, in respect of thine;
I'd rather feele the power of thy Love,
Than of thy hand; In that, my heart would prove

368

The stouter Champion, and would make thee yeeld,
And leave thee captive in the conquer'd field.
The strength of my affection passes thine,
As much as thy victorious arme does mine;
The greatest conquest, then, is due to me;
Thou conquer'st others, but I conquer thee:
But say, my love, is it some bidden charme,
Or does thy stocke of youth enrich thy arme
With so great power, that can overthrow,
And conquer mighty Kingdomes, at a blow?
What cause have I to joy! J need not feare
The greatest danger, now my Samson's here:
I feare no Rebels now; me thinks, thy power
Makes me a Princesse, and my house, a Tower:
But say, my Love, if Delila should finde thee,
Lost in a fleepe, could not her fingers binde thee?
Me thinkes they should: But I would scorne to make
So poore a Conquest: When th'art broad awake,
Teach me the tricke: Or if thou wilt deny me;
Know, that my owne invention shall supply me,
Without thy helpe: I'le use a womans charmes,
And binde thee fast, within these circled Armes:
To whom, the Champion, smiling, thus replied;

Take the greene Osyers that were never dried,
And bind thy Samsons wrists together, then,
He shall be fast, and weake as other men:
With that, the Philistines, that lay in waite
Within an eares command, commanded strait,
That Osyers should be brought: wherwith she tyed
Victorious Samsons joyned hands, and cryed;
Samson make haste; and let thy strength appeare:
Samson take heed; the Philistines are here:
He starts, and as the flaming fier cracks
The slender substance of th'untwisted flaxe,

369

He twitcht in sunder his divided bands,
And in a moment freed his fastned hands;
With that offended Delila bewrai'd
A frowne, halfe sweetned with a smile, and said;

Thinkst thou, thy Delila does goe about
T'entrappe thy life? Or, can my Samson doubt
To lodge a secret in the loyall brest
Of faithfull Delila, that findes no rest,
No happinesse, but in thy heart, alone,
Whose Joy I prize farre dearer then my owne?
Why then shouldst thou deceive me, and impart
So soule a falshood, to so true a heart?
Come, grant my suite, and let that faithlesse tongue
Make love amends which hath done love this wrong:
To whom dissembling Samson thus replied,
Take twisted ropes, whose strength was never tryed,
And tye these closed hands together; then,
J shall be fast, and weake as other men:
With that, she bound him close; and having made
The knot more suer, then her love's, she said;
Samson arise; and take thy strength vpon thee;
Samson make hast; the Philistines are on thee:
He straight arose, and as a striving hand
Would breake a Sisters thred, he crackt the band
That bound his arms, he crackt the bands in sunder;
But frowning Delila, whose heart did wonder
No lesse then vexe, being fill'd with discontent,
She said; False lover, If thy heart had meant,
What thy faire tongue had formerly profest,
Thou nere hadst kept thy secrets from my brest:
Wherein hath Delila bin found unjust,
Not to deserve the honour of thy trust?
Wherein, have I beene faithlesse or disloyall?
Or what request of thine, ere found denyall?

370

Had I but bin so wise, as to deny,
Samson might beg'd, and misi, as well as I:
But 'tis my fortune, still, to be most free
To those, as are the most reserv'd to me:
Be not ingratefull, Samson; If my brest
Were but as false, as thine is hard, J'd rest
To tempt thy silence, or to move my suite:
Speake then, but speake the truth; or else be mute.
To whom, fond Samson; If thy hands would tye
These locks to yonder Beame, they will discrie
My native weaknesse: and thy Samson, then,
Would be as poore in strength, as other men:
So said; her busie fingers soone obey'd;
His locks being platted to the beame, she said:
Samson bestirre thee; and let thy power appeare:
Samson take heed, the Philistines are here:
With that he quits the place (whereon he lay,
Fallne fast asleepe) and bore the Beame away.

Meditat. 21.

See, how the crafty Serpent, twists and windes
Into the brest of man! What paths he findes,
And crooked by wayes! With how sweet a baite
He hides the hooke of his inveterate hate!
What suger'd words, and eare-delighting Art
He uses, to supplant the yeelding heart
Of poore deceived man, who stands and trusts
Vpon the broken staffe of his false lusts!
He tempts; allures; suggests; and, in conclusion,
Makes Man the Pander to his owne confusion:

371

The fruit was faire and pleasing to the eyes,
Apt to breed knowledge, and to make them wise;
Must they not taste so faire a fruit, not touch?
Yes, doe: Twill make you Gods, and know as much
As he that made it: Thinke you, you can fall
Into deaths hands? Yee shall not dye at all:
Thus fell poore man: his knowledge proved such,
Better't had bin, he had not knowne so much:
Thus this old Serpent takes advantage still
On our desiers, and distemperd will:
Art thou growne Covetous? wouldst thou faine be rich?
He comes and strikes thy heart with the dry itch
Of having: Wealth wil rouze thy heartles friends;
Make thee a potent Master of thy Ends;
'Twill 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 & 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 Ladies, to refresh
Thy drooping soule: He'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 own thoughts: hee'l make thee beg & crave
To be a drudge: hee'l make thy treacherous breath
Destroy thee, and betray thee to thy death.

Lord; if our Father Adam could not stay
In his upright perfection, one poore day;

372

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 haste to helpe; The Philistines are on us.

Sect. 22.

The 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 convey him.

With that; the wanton, whose distrustfull eye,
Was fixt upon reward, made this reply;

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 bony-dropping lips so often
Did plead thy undissembled love, and soften
My deare affection, which could never yeeld
To easier termes; By thee, to be beguild?

373

How often hast thou mockt my slender suite
With forged falshood? Hadst thou but beene mute,
J nere had hop'd: But being fairely led
Towards my prompt desiers, which were fed
With my false hopes, and thy false-hearted tongue,
And then beguild? J hold it as a wrong:
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 flak'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; Jn thy hand
There entrust, aud to thy brest impart
Thy Samsons life, and secrets of his heart;
I now then my Delila, that J 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, she said;
Samson awake; Take strength and courage on thee;
Samson arise; The Philistines are on thee:

374

Even as a Dove, whose wings are clipt, for flying,
Flutters her idle stumps; and still's relying
Vpon her wonted refuge, strives in vaine,
To quit her life from danger, and attaine
The freedome of her ayre-diuiding 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 rows'd him from his rest) forsook the ground;
Perceiving the Philistians there at hand,
To take him pris'ner, he began to stand
Vpon his wonted Guard: 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 tempestuous weather)
Defi'd each one, defi'd 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; & 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 Packthred; 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 whirled death about,
Where ere they view'd, their cursed hands put out
They led him pris'ner, and convai'd him downe

375

To strong-wall'd d'Azza (that Philistians, towne,
Those gates his shoulders lately bore away)
There, in the common Prison, did they lay
Distressed Samson, who obtain'd no meate,
But what he purchas'd with his painfull sweate;
For, every day, they urg'd him to fulfill
His twelve howres taske, at the laborious Mill;
And, when his wasted strength began to tyre,
They'd quicken his bare sides, with whips of Wire:
Fill'd was the towne with Ioy, and Triumph: All,
From the high-Prince, to th'Cobbler, on the stall,
Kept holy-day, whilest every voice became
Hoarse, as the Trumpe of newes-divulging fame;
All tongues were fill'd with shouts: And every eare
Was growne impatient of the whisperer;
So generall was their Triumph, their Applause,
That children shouted ere they knew a cause:
The better sort betooke them to their knees,
Dagon must worship'd be: Dagon, that frees
Both Sea, and Land, Dagon, that did subdue
Our common soe: Dagon must have his due:
Dagon must have his praise; must have his prize:
Dagon must have his holy Sacrifice:
Dagon has brought to our victorious hand
Proud Samson: Dagon has redeem'd our land:
We call to Dagon: and our Dagon heares;
Our groanes are come to holy Dagons eares;
To Dagon, all renowne and Glory be;
Where is there such another God as Hee?

376

Medita. 22.

How is our story chang'd? O, more then strange
Effects of so small time! O, sudden change;
Is this that holy Nazarite, for whom
Heaven shew'd a Miracle on the barren wombe?
Is this that holy Thing, against whose Birth
Angels must quit their thrones, and visit Earth?
Is this that blessed Infant, that began
To grow in favour so with God and man?
What, is this he, who (strengthn'd by heav'ns hand)
Was borne a Champion, to redeeme the Land?
Is this the man, whose courage did contest
With a fierce Lyon, grapling brest to brest;
And in a twinkling, tore him quite in sunder?
Is this that Conquerour, whose Arme did thunder
Vpon the men of Askalon, the power
Of whose bent fist, slew thirty in an hower?
Is this that daring Conquerour, whose hand
Thrasht the proud Philistines in their wasted land?
And was this He, that with the helpe of none,
Destroy'd a thousand with a silly Bone?
Or He, whose wrists, being bound together, did
Break Cords like flax, and double Ropes like thrid?
Is this the man whose hands unhing'd those Gates,
And bare them thence, with pillars, barrs & Grates?
And is he turn'd a Mill-horse now? and blinde?
Must this great Conquerour be forc'd to grinde
For bread and water? Must this Heroe spend
His latter times in drudgery? Must he end
His weary dayes in darknesse? Must his hyer,
Be knotted cords, and torturing whips of wyer?

377

There heavn withdraws, the creaturs power shakes?
That miserie's wanting there, where God forsakes?
Had Samson not abus'd his borrow'd power,
Samson had still, remain'd a Conquerour:
The Philistins did act his part; No doubt,
His eyes offended, and they pluck'd them out:
Heaven will be just: He punishes a sin,
Oft in the member, that he findes it in:
Then faithlesse Zacharias did become
Too curious, his lips were strucken dumbe:
Samson whose lustfull view did overprize
Vnlawfull beautie's punisht in his eyes;
Those flaming eyes seduc'd his wanton minde
To act a sinne; Those eyes are stricken blinde;
The beauty he invaded, did invade him,
And that faire tong, that blest him so, betraid him:
That strength, intemperate lust imploy'd so ill,
Is now a driving the laborious Mill;
Those naked sides, so pleas'd with lusts desire,
Are now, as naked, lasht with whips of wire:
Lord, shouldst thou punish every part in me
That does offend, what member would be free?
Each member acts his part; They never lin
Vntill they joyne, and make a Body' of sin:
Make sinne my burthen; Let it never please me;
And thou hast promis'd, when I come, to ease me.

378

Sect. 23.

The Argvment.

They make a feast. And then to crowne
Their mirth, blind Samson is brought thither:
He pulls the mighty Pillers downe;
The Building falls: All slaine together.

Thus when the vulgar Triumph (which does last
But seldome, longer then the newes) was past,
And Dagons holy Altars had surccast
To breath their idle fumes: they call'd a feast,
A common Feast; whose bounty did bewray
A common joy, to gratulate the day;
Whereto, the Princes, vnder whose command
Each province was, in their diuided land;
Whereto, the Lords, Leiutenants, and all those,
To whom the supreme Rulers did repose
An under-trust; whereto, the better sort
Of gentry, and of Commons did resort,
With mirth, and jolly triumph, to allay
Their sorrowes, and to solemnize the day;
Into the common Hall they come: The Hall
Was large and faire; Her arched roofe was all
Builded with massie stone, and over-lai'd
With pond'rous Lead; Two sturdy Pillers stai'd
Her mighty Rafters up; whereon, relied
The weighty burthen of her lofty pride.
When lusty dyet, and the frollicke cup
Had rouz'd and rais'd their quickned spirits up,

379

And brave triumphing Bacchus had displaid
His conquering colours, in their cheeks, they said;
Call Samson forth; He must not worke too day;
Tis a boone feast; Wee'l give him leave to play;
Does be grinde bravely? Does our Mill-horse sweat?
Let him lacke nothing; What he wants in meate,
Empty in lashes; He is strong and stout,
And, with his breathe and drive the Mill about:
It workes too hard, we stare: Goe downe and free him;
“Say, that his Mistresse, Delila would see him:
“The sight of him will take our howers short;
“Goe fetch him then to make our Honours sport:
“Bid him provide some Riddles; Let him bring
“Some song of Triumph: He that's blinde, may sing
“With better boldnesse: Bid him never doubt
“To please: What matter though his eyes be out?
“'Tis no dishonour, that be cannot see;
Tell him, the God of Love's as blinde, as hee:
With that they brought poore Samson to the Hall;
And as he past, he gropes to finde the wall;
His pace was slow, His feet were lifted high;
Each tongue would taunt him Every scornfull eye
Was filld with laughter; Some would cry aloud,
“He walkes in state: His Lordship is growne proud:
Some bid his honour, Haile, whilst others cast
Reproachfull termes upon him; as he past,
Some would salute him fairely, and embrace
His wounded sides, then spit upon his face:
Others would cry; For shame for beare t'abuse
The high and great redeemer of the Iewes:
Some gibe and flout him with their taunts & quips,
With that poore Samson, whose abundant griefe,
Not finding hopes of comfort or reliefe,

380

Resolv'd for patience: Turning round, he made
Some shift to feele his Keeper out, and said;

Good Sir, my painfull labour in the Mill
Hath made me bold (although against my will)
To crave some little rest; Jf you will please
To let the Pillour but afford some ease
To my worne limmes, your mercy should relieve
A soule that has no more but thanks, to give:
The keeper yeelded: (Now the Hall was filld
With Princes, and their People, that beheld
Abused Samson; whilst the Roofe retain'd
A leash of thousands more, whose eyes were 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 pray'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
Js 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 plenteous 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 desert
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:

381

Against thy Glory 'tis, their Malice lies;
“They aim'd at that when they put out these eyes:
“Alas, their blood-bedabl'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 battels; and at length,
“Rescue thy glory; that my hands may do
“That faithfull service they were borne unto:
“Lend me thy power, that J may restore
“Thy losse, and I will never urge thee more:
Thus having ended, both his armes he laid,
Upon the pillours of the Hall; and said;
Thus with the Philistines, I resigne my breath;

And let my God finde Glory in my death:
And having spoke, his yeelding body strain'd
Upon those Marble pillours, that sustain'd
The pondrous Roofe; They cracket; 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 left, to tell
The horrid shreekes that filld the spatious Hall,
Those ruines were impartiall, and slew all:
They fell; and, with an unexpected blow.
Gave every one his death, and buriall too:
Thus di'd our Samson; whose brave death has won
More honour, then his honourd life had done:
Thus di'd our Conquerour; whose latest breath
Was crown'd with Conquest, triumph'd over death:
Thus di'd our Sampson; whose last drop of blood
Redeem'd heavn's glory, and his Kingdome's good:

382

Thus di'd heavens Champion, and 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 shal last, till heaven shal please to free
This Earth from Sinne, and Time shall cease to be.

Medita. 23.

Wages of sinne, is death. The day must come,
Wherin, the equall hand of death must sum
The severall Items of mans fading glory,
Into the easie totall of one Story:
The browes that sweat for Kingdomes and renown,
To glorifie their Temples with a Crowne;
At length, grow cold, and leave their honourd name
To flourish in th'uncertaine blast of Fame:
This is the heighth 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 extreame 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
Crown him with plenty; and, his dayes with peace?
It is a right hand blessing; But supply
Of wealth cannot secure him; He must die:

383

Lives he in Pleasure? Does perpetuall mirth
Lend him a little Heaven upon his earth?
Meets he no sullen care, no sudden losse
To coole his joyes? Breathes hee without a crosse?
Wants he no pleasure, that his wanton 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 favors, 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 Eternitie 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 deth;
In whom, the Creature hath his being, breath;
Teach me to underprize 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 tedious life, enjoy a life of Glory.

The end.