THE HISTORY OF SAMSON:  
Written By FRA: QVARLES.  
LONDON, Printed by M. F. for JOHN MARRIOTT, in S. Dunstan's Churchyard in Fleetstreet. 1631.   

for the time, but quickly leaves us to our former darkness: The overtaken Lantern is the true Friend; which, though it promise but a faint light, yet it goes along with us, as far as it can, towards our Journeys end: The offered Link is the mercenary Friend; which, though it be ready enough to do us service, yet that service hath a servile relation to our bounty. Sir; in the middle rank I find you, hating the first, and scorning the last; to whom, in the height of my undissembled assection, and unfeigned thankfulness, I commend myself, and this book, to receive an equal censure, from your uncorrupted judgement: In the Bud, it was yours; it blossomed, yours; and now, your favour able acceptance confirms the fruit yours: All I crave, is, that you would be pleased to interpret these my intentions to proceed from an ardent desire, that hath long been in labour to express the true affections of him  
That holds it an honour  
to honour you  
FRA: QVARLES.   

TO THE READER.  
THE tyranny of my Affairs was never yet so imperious, but I could steal some hours to my private Meditations; the fruits of which stolen time I here present thee with, in the History of Samson: Wherein, if thy extreme severity check at any thing, which thou conceivest may not stand with the majesty of this sacred Subject; know, that my intention was not to offend my brother: The wisest of Kings, inspired by the King of Wisdom, thought it no detraction from the gravity of his Holy Proverbs, to describe a Harlot like a Harlot, Her whorish Attire; her immodest Gesture, her bold Countenance; her flattering Tongue; her lascivious Embraces; her unchaste Kisses; her impudent Invitations: If my descriptions in the like kind, offend; I make no question but the validity of my Warrant will give a reasonable satisfaction: He that lifts not his feet high enough, may easily stumble: But on the contrary, If any be, whose worse than Sacrilegious minds shall profane our harmless intentions with wanton conceits, to such I heartily wish, a Procul ite; Let none such look farther than this Epistle, at their own perils: If they do, let them put off their shoes, for this is holy Ground: Fowl hands will muddle the clearest waters: and base minds will corrupt the purest Text: If any offence be taken, it is by way of stealth, for there is none willingly given: I write to Bees, and not to Spiders: They will suck pleasing honey from such flowers: These may burst with their own poison: But you, whose well-seasond hearts are not distempered with either of these extremities, but have the better relish of a Sacred understanding; draw near, and read.   


I Sing th' illustrious, and renowned story  
Of mighty Samson; The eternal glory  
Of his Heroic acts: His life, His death:  
Quicken my Muse with thy diviner breath,  
Great God of Muses, that my prosperous rhymes  
May live and last to everlasting times;  
That they unborn may, in this sacred story,  
Admire thy goodness, and advance thy glory.    

THE HISTORY OF SAMSON.  

SECT. 1.  
ARGUMENT.  

A holy Angel doth salute  
The wife of Manoah, and enlarge  
Her barren womb with promised fruit  
Of both their loins. The Angel's charge.   

WIthin the Tents of Zorah dwelled a man  
Of Jacob's seed, and of the Tribe of Dan;  
Known by the name of Manoah; to whom  
Heaven had denied the treasure of the womb;  
His Wife was barren; And her prayers could not  
Remove that great reproach, or cleanse that blot  
Which on her fruitless name appeared so foul,  
Not to increase the Tribe of Dan one soul:  
Long had she, doubtless, striven with heaven, by prayers  
Made strong with tears and sighs; Hopes and despairs  
No doubt had often tortured her desire  
Upon a Rock, composed of frost and fire:  
But Heaven was pleased to turn His deafened ears  
Against those prayers made strong with sighs and tears:  
She often prayed; but prayers could not obtain:  
Alas; she prayed, she wept, she sighed in vain:  
She prayed, no doubt; but prayers could find no room;  
They proved, alas, as barren as her womb.   

Upon a time (when her unanswered prayer  
Had now given just occasion of despair,  
(Even when her bedrid faith was grown so frail,  
That very Hope grew heartless to prevail)  
Appear'dan Angel to her; In his face,  
Terror and sweetness laboured for the place:  
Sometimes, his Sunbright eyes would shine so fierce,  
As if their pointed beams would even pierce  
Her soul, and strike th'amazed beholder dead:  
Sometimes, their glory would disperse, and spread  
More easy flames; and, like the Star, that stood  
O'er Bethlem, promise and portend some good:  
Mixed was his bright aspect; as if his breath  
Had equal errands both of life and death:  
Glory and Mildness seemed to contend  
In his fair eyes, so long, till in the end,  
In glorious mildness, and in milder glory,  
He thus salutes her with this pleasing story.   

Woman; Heaven greets thee well: Rise up, and fear not;  
Forbear thy faithless tremble; I appear not  
Clad in the vestments of consuming fire;  
Cheer up, I have no warrant to inquire  
Into thy sins; I have no Vyals here,  
Nor dreadful Thunderbolts to make thee fear:  
I have no plagues t'inflict; nor is my breath  
Charged with destruction; or my hand, with death.  
No, no; cheer up; I come not to destroy;  
I come to bring thee tidings of great joy:  
Rouse up thy dull belief; for I appear,  
To exercise thy Faith, and not thy Fear:  
The Guide, and great Creator of all things,  
Chief Lord of Lords, and supreme King of Kings,  
To whom an Host of men are but a swarm  
Of murmring Gnats; whose high prevailing arm  
Can crush ten thousand worlds, and at one blow  
Can strike the earth to nothing, and o'erthrow  
The Losts of Heaven; he that hath the keys  
Of wombs; to shut, and open them, when he please;  
He that can all things, that he will, this day,  
Is pleased to take thy long reproach away:  
Behold; thy wombe's enlarged; and thy desires  
Shall find success: Before long time expires,  
Thou shalt conceive: Eretwise five months be run,  
Be thou the joyful mother of a son;  
But see, thy wary palate do forbear  
The juice of the bewitching Grape; Beware,  
Lest thy desires tempt thy lips to wine,  
Which must be faithful strangers to the Vine.  
Strong drink thou must not taste, and all such meat  
The Law proclaims unclean, refrain to eat:  
And when the fruit of thy restored womb  
Shall see the light, take heed no Razor come  
Upon his fruitful head; For from his birth,  
Soon as the womb entrusts him on the earth,  
The child shall be a Nazarite, to God;  
By whose appointment, he shall prove a Rod,  
To scourge the proud Philistians; and recall  
Poor suffering Israel from their slavish thrall.   

MEDITAT. 1.  

HOw impudent is Nature, to account  
Those acts her own, that do so far surmount  
Her easy reach! How purblind are those eyes  
Of stupid mortals, that have power to rise  
No higher than her laws, who takes upon her  
The work, and robs the Author of his honour!  
Seest thou the fruitful Womb? How every year  
It moves thy Cradle; to thy slender cheer,  
Invites another Guest, and makes thee Father  
To a new Son, who now, perchance, hadst rather  
Bring up the old, esteeming propagation  
A thankless work of Supererogation:  
Perchance, the formal Midwife seems to thee  
Less welcome now; then she was wont to be:  
Thou stand'st amazed, to hear such needless joy,  
And carest as little for it, as the Boy  
That's newly borne into the world; nay worse,  
Perchance, thou grumblest, counting it a curse  
Unto thy faint estate, which is not able  
T' increase the bounty of thy slender Table:  
Poor miserable man what ere thou be,  
I suffer for thy crooked thoughts; not thee:  
Thou tak'st thy children to be gifts of nature;  
Their wit, their flowering beauty, comely stature,  
Their perfect health; their dainty disposition,  
Their virtues, and their easy acquisition  
Of curious Arts, their strength's attained perfection  
You attribute to that benign complexion,  
Wherewith your Goddess, Nature hath endowed  
Their well-disposed Organs; and are proud;  
And here your Goddess leaves you, to deplore  
That such admired perfections should be poor:  
Advance thine eyes, no less than wilful blind,  
And, with thine eyes, advance thy drooping mind:  
Correct thy thoughts; Let not thy wondering eye  
Adore the servant, when the Master's by:  
Look on the God Nature: From him come  
These underprized blessings of the womb:  
He makes thee rich, in children; when his store  
Crowns thee with wealth, why mak'st thou thyself poor?  
He opes thee womb: why then shouldst thou repine?  
They are his children, mortal, and not thine:  
We are but Keepers; And the more he lends  
To our tuition, he the more commends  
Our faithful trust: It is not every one  
Deserves that honour, to command his Son:  
She counts it as a fortune, that's allowed  
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 fear: Our stock's but small;  
If heaven, with Children, send us wherewith all  
To stop their craving stomaches, than we care not:  
Great God  
How hast thou cracked thy credit, that we dare not  
Trust thee for bread? How is't, we dare not venture  
To keep thy Babes, unless thou please to enter  
In bond, for payment? Art thou grown so poor,  
To leave thy famished Infants at our door,  
And not allow them food? Canst thou supply  
The empty Ravens, and let thy children dye?   

Send me that stint, thy wisdom shall think fit,  
Thy pleasure is my will; and I submit:  
Make me deserve that honour thou hast lent  
To my frail trust, and I will rest content.     

SECT. 2.  
ARGUMENT.  

The Wife of Manoah attended with fearful Hope, and hopeful Fear,  
The joyful tidings recommended to her amazed Husband's ear.   

THus, when the great Ambassador of heaven  
Had done that sacred service, which was given  
And trusted to his faithful charge, he spread  
His ayre-dividing pinions, and fled:  
But now, th' affrighted woman apprehends  
The strangeness of the Message; recommends  
Both it, and him, that did it, to her fears;  
The news was welcome to her grateful ears,  
But what the newesman was, did so increase  
Her doubts, that her strange hopes could find no peace;  
For when her hopes would build a Tower of joy,  
O, than her fears would shake it, and destroy  
The main foundation; what her hopes, in vain,  
Did raise, her fears would ruinate again:  
One while, she thought; It was an Angel sent;  
And then, her fears would teach her to repent  
That frightful thought: But when she deeply weighed  
The joyful message, than her thoughts obeyed  
Her first conceit; Distracted, with confusion,  
Sometimes she feared it was a false delusion,  
Suggested in her too believing ears;  
Sometimes she doubts, it was a Dream, that bear  
No weight but in a slumber; till at last,  
Her feet, advised by her thoughts, made haste  
Unto her husband; in whose ears she broke  
This mind-perplexing secret thus, and spoke;  
Sir.   

As my discur sive thoughts did lately muse  
On those great blessings, wherewith heaven doth use  
To crown his children, here; among the rest,  
Me thoughts no one could make a wife more blessed,  
And crown her youth, her age with greater measure  
Of true content, than the unprized treasure  
Of her chaste womb: but as my thoughts were bend  
Upon this subject, being in our Tent,  
And none but I, appeared before mine eyes  
A man of God: His habit, and his guise  
Was such as holy Prophets use to wear,  
But in his dreadful looks there did appear  
Something that made me tremble; In his eye,  
Mildness was next with awful Majesty;  
Strange was his language, and I could not choose  
But fear the man, although I liked his news;   

Woman (said he) Cheer up, and do not fear;  
I have no vials, no nor judgements here;  
My hand hath no Commission, to inquire  
Into thy sins; nor am I clad in fire:  
I come to bring thee tidings 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 womb;  
Before the space of twice five months be run,  
Thou shalt become the parent of a Son,  
Till then, take heed, thou neither drink, nor eat  
Wines, or strong drink, or Law-forbidden meat,  
For when this promised child, shall see the light,  
Thou shalt be mother to a Nazarite:   

While thus he spoke, I trembled: Horrid fear  
Usurped my quivering heart; Only mine ear  
Was pleased to be the vessel of such news,  
Which Heaven make good; and give me strength to use  
My better Faith: The holy Prophet's name  
I was afraid t' inquire, or whence he came.   

MEDITAT. 2.  

ANd dost thou not admire? Can such things  
Obtain less privilege, than a Tale, that brings  
The audience wonder, intermixed with pleasure?  
Is't a small thing, that Angels can find leisure  
To leave their blessed seats; 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 footsteps, and attend on us?  
How good a God have we! whose eyes can wink,  
For sear they should discover the base sink  
Of our loathed sins: How doth he stop his ear,  
Lest, when they call for justice, he should hear?  
How often, Ah, how often doth He send  
His willing Angels, hourly to attend  
Our steps; and, with his bounty, to supply  
Our helpless wants, at our falsehearted cry?  
The bounteous Ocean, with a liberal hand,  
Transports her laden treasure, to the land;  
Inriches every Port, and makes each town  
Proud with that wealth, which now she calls her own;  
And what return they for so great a gain,  
But sinks and noisome Gutters, back again?  
Even so (great God) thou send'st thy blessings in,  
And we return thee, Dunghills of our Sin:  
How are thy Angels hackneyed up and down  
To visit man? How poorly do we crown  
Their blessed labours? They with joy, dismount,  
Laden with blessings, but returneth ' account  
Of Filth and Trash: They bring th' unvalued prize  
Of Grace and promised Glory, while our eyes  
Disdain these heavenly Factors, and refuse  
Their proffered wares; affecting, more, to choose  
A Grain of pleasure then a gem of glory;  
We find no treasure, but in Transitory  
And earth-bred Toys, while things immortal stand  
Like Garments, to be sold at second hand:  
Great God; Thou knowst, we are but flesh and blood;  
Alas! we can interpret nothing, good,  
But what is evil; deceitful are our joys;  
We are but children, and we whine for Toys:  
Of things unknown there can be no desire;  
Quicken our hearts with the celestial fire  
Of thy discerning Spirit, and we shall know  
Both what is good, and good desire too:   

Vouchsafe to let thy blessed Angel come,  
And bring the tidings, that the barren womb  
Of our Affections is enlarged; O when  
That welcome news shall be revealed, then,  
Our souls shall soon conceive, and bring thee forth  
The firstlings of a new, and holy birth.     

SECT. 3.  
ARGUMENT.  

Manoah's wonder turns to Zeal;  
His zeal, to prayer: His prayers obtain  
The Angel that did late reveal  
The joyful news, returns again.   

NOw when th'amazed woman had commended  
Her tongue to silence, and her tale was ended;  
Perplexed Manoah, ravished at the news,  
Within himself, he thus began to muse;  
Strange is the message! And as strangely done!  
Shall Manoah's loins be fruitful? Shall a Son  
Bless his last days? Or shall an Issue come  
From the i'll closet of a barren womb?  
Shall Manoah's wife give suck? and now, at last,  
Find pleasure, when her prime of youth is past?  
Shall her cold womb be now, in age, restored?  
And was't a man of God, that brought the word?  
Or was't some false delusion, that possessed  
The weakness of a lonely woman's breast?  
Or was't an Angel, sent from heaven, to show  
What Heaven hath will, as well as power, to do?  
Till than thou must refrain to drink, or eat,  
Wines, and strong drink, and Law-forbidden meat?  
Evil Angels rather would instruct to riot,  
They use not to prescribe so strict a Diet;  
No, no; I make no further question of it,  
'Twas some good Angel, or some holy Prophet.  
Thus, having mused a while, he bowed his face  
Upon the ground; and (prostrate in the place,  
Where first he heard the welcome tidings) prayed,  
(His wonder now transformed to Zeal) and said:   

Great God; That hast engaged thyself, by vow,  
When ere thy little Israel begs, to bow  
Thy gracious ear; O hearken to the least  
Of Israel's sons, and grant me my request:  
By thee, I live, and breathe: Thou didst become  
My gracious God, both in, and from the womb;  
Thy precious favours I have still possessed,  
And have depended on thee, from the Breast:  
My simple Infancy hath been protected,  
By thee; my Childhood taught, my youth corrected,  
And sweetly chastened with thy gentle Rod;  
I was no sooner; but thou wert my God:  
All times declare thee good; This very hour  
Can testify the greatness of thy power,  
And promptness of thy Mercy, which hast sent  
This blessed Angel to us, to augment  
The Catalogue of thy favours, and restore  
Thy servants womb, whose hopes had even given over  
T' expect an Issue: What thou hast begun,  
Prosper, and perfect, till the work be done:  
Let not my Lord be angry, if I crave  
A boon, too great for me to beg, or have;  
Let that blessed Angel, that thou sentest, of late,  
Reblesse us with his presence, and relate,  
Thy will at large, and what must then be done,  
When time shall bring to light this promised son.   

About that time, when the declining Lamp  
Trebles each shadow; when the evening damp  
Begins to moisten, and refresh the land,  
The Wife of Manoah (under whose command  
The weaned Lambs did feed) being lowly seated  
Upon a Shrub (where often she repeated  
That pleasing news, the subject of her thought)  
Appeared the Angel; he, that lately brought  
Those blessed tidings to her: up she rose;  
Her second fear had warrant to dispose  
Her nimble footsteps to unwonted haste;  
She runs with speed, (she cannot run too fast)  
At length, she finds her husband; In her eyes,  
Were joy and Fear; whilst her lost breath denies  
Her speech, her trembling hands make signs;  
She puffs and pants; her breathless tongue disjoins  
Her broken words: Behold, behold (said she)  
The man of God, (if man of God he be)  
Appeared again: These very eyes beheld  
The man of God: I left him in our field.   

MEDITAT. 3.  

Heaven is God's Magazine; wherein, he hath  
Stored up his Vials both of love, and wrath;  
justice and Mercy, wait upon his Throne;  
Favours and Thunderbolts attend upon  
His sacred Will and Pleasure; Life and Death  
Do both receive their influence from his breath;  
judgements attend his left; at his right hand  
Blessings and ever lasting Pleasures stand:  
Heaven is the Magazine; wherein, he puts  
Both good and evil: Prayer 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 sin?  
Turncbut the key, and thou mayst lock it in:  
Or wouldst thou have a Blessing fall upon thee?  
Open the door, and it will shower on thee.  
Can Heaven be false? Or can th' Almighty's tongue,  
That is all very truth, do Truth that wrong,  
Not to perform a vow? His lips have sworn,  
Sworn by himself, that if a Sinner turn  
To him, by prayer; his prayer shall not be lost  
For want of ear; nor his desire, crossed:  
How is it then, we often ask and have not?  
We ask, and often miss, because we crave not  
The things we should: his wisdom can foresee  
Those blessings, better, that we want, than we.  
Hast thou not heard a peevish Infant bawl  
To gain possession of a knife? And shall  
Th'indulgent nurse be counted, wisely kind,  
If she be moved to please his childish mind?  
Is it not greater wisdom, to deny  
The sharp-edged knife, and to present his eye  
With a fine harmless Puppet? We require  
Things, oft, unfit; and our too fond desire  
Fastens on goods, that are but glorious ills,  
Whilst Heaven's high wisdom contradicts our wills,  
With more advantage; for we oft receive  
Things that are far more fit, for us, to have:  
Experience tells; we seek, and cannot find:  
We seek and often want, because we bind  
The Giver to our times; He knows we want  
Patience; and, therefore he suspends his grant,  
T'increase our Faith; that so we may depend  
Upon his hand: He loves to hear us spend  
Our childish mouths: Things easily obtained,  
Are lewly prized; but what our prayers have gained  
By tears, and groans, that cannot be expest,  
Are far more dear, and sweeter, when possessed.   

Great God whose power hath so oft prevailed  
Against the strength of Princes, and hast quailed  
Their prouder stomaches; with thy breath, discrowned  
Their heads, and thrown their sceptres to the ground,  
Striking their swelling hearts with cold despair,  
How art thou conquered, and o'ercome by Prayer!  
Infuse that Spirit, Great God, into my heart,  
And I will have a Blessing, ere we part.     

SECT. 4.  
ARGUMENT.  

Manoah desires to know the fashion  
And breeding of his promised son;  
To whom the Angel makes relation  
Of all things needful to be done.   

With that, the Danite rose; being guided  
By his perplexed wife, they, both divided.  
Their heedless paces, till they had attained  
The field, wherein the Man of God remained:  
And, drawing nearer to his presence, stayed  
His weary steps, and, with obeisance, said:   

Art thou the man whose blessed lips foretold  
Those joyful tidings? Shall my tongue be bold,  
Without the breach of manners, to request  
This boon, Art thou that Prophet, that possessed  
This barren woman with a hope, that She  
Shall bear a Son? He answered, I am He:  
Said Manoah, then: Let not a word of thine  
Be lost; let them continue to divine  
Our future happiness: Let them be crowned  
With truth; and thou with honour, to be found  
A holy Prophet: Let performance bless  
And speed thy speeches with a fair success:  
But tell me, Sir; When this great work is done,  
And time shall bring to light this promised Son,  
What sacred Ceremonies shall we use?  
What Rites? What way of breeding shall we choose  
T' observe? What holy course of life shall he  
Be trained in? What shall his Office be?  
Whereat th' attentive Angel did divide  
The portal of his lips, and thus replied:   

The Child, that from thy fruitful loins shall come  
Shall be a holy Nazarite, from the womb;  
Take heed; that womb, that shall enclose this Child;  
In no case be polluted or defiled  
With Law-forbidden meats: Let her forbear  
To taste those things that are forbiddenthere.  
The bunckbacke Camill, shall be no repast  
For her; Her palate shall forbear to taste,  
The burrow haunting Conie, and decline  
The swiftfoot- Hare, and miredelighting Swine;  
The griping goshawk; and the towering Eagle;  
The party-colloured Pie must not inveigle  
Her lips to move; the brood devouring Kite;  
The croaking Raven; The Owl that hates the light;  
The steele-digesting Bird; The lazy Snail;  
The Cuckoo, ever telling of one tail;  
The fish-consuming Osprey, and the Want,  
That undermines; the greedy Cormorant;  
Th' indulgent Pelican; the predictious Crow;  
The chattering Stork, and ravenous Vulture too;  
Of all good Counsels; and, from whom, proceeds  
A living Spring, to water all our needs;  
How willing are his Angels to descend  
From of their throne of Glory, and attend  
Upon our wants! How oft return they back  
Mourning to Heaven, as if they grieved for lack  
Of our employment! O, how prone are they  
To be assistant to us, every way!  
Have we just cause to joy? They'll come and sing  
About our beds: Does any judgement bring  
Just cause of grief? They'll fall agreeving too;  
Do we triumph? Their joyful mouths will blow  
Their louder Trumpets; Or do fears affectus?  
They'll guard our heads from danger, and protectus:  
Are we in Prison, or in Persecution?  
They'll fill our hearts with joy, and resolution:  
Or do we languish in our sickly beds?  
They'll come and pitch their Tents about our heads;  
See they a sinner penitent, and mourn  
For his bewailed offences, and return?  
They clap their hands, and join their warbling voices  
They sing, and all the Choir of heaven rejoices.   

What is in us poor Dust and Ashes, Lord,  
That thou shouldst look upon us, and afford  
Thy precious favours to us, and impart  
Thy gracious Counselcs? What is our desert,  
But Death, and Horror? What can we more claim,  
Then they, that now, are scortehing in that flame,  
That hath nor moderation, rest, nor end?  
How does thy mercy, above thought, extend  
To them thou lov'st! Teach me (great God) to prise  
Thy sacred Counsels: Open my blind eyes,  
That I may see to walk the perfect way;  
For as I am, Lord, I am apt to stray  
And wander to the gulf of endless woe:  
Teach me what must be done, and help to do.    

SECT. 5.  
ARGUMENT.  

Manoah desires to understand,  
But is denied, the Angel's name!  
He offers by the Angel's hand:  
The Angel vanishes in a flame.   

SO said, The son of Israel, (easily apt  
To credit, what his soul desired, and rapt  
With better hopes, which served him as a guide  
To his belief, o'erjoyed) he thus replied;   

Let not the man of God, whose Heavenly voice  
Hath blessed mine care, and made my soul rejoice,  
Beyond expression, now refuse to come  
Within my Tent, and honour my poor home  
With his desired presence; there to taste  
His servants slender diet, and repast  
Upon his Rural fare: These hands shall take  
A tender Kid from out the flocks, and make,  
(Without long tarriance) some delightful meat,  
Which may invite the man of God to eat:  
Come, come (my Lord) And what defect of food  
Shall be, thy servants welcome shall make good:  
Where to the Angel (who as yet had made  
Himself unknown) reanswered thus, and said.  
Excuseme: Though thy hospitable love  
Prevail to make me stay, it cannot move  
My thankful lips to taste thy liberal cheer;  
Let not thy bounty urge in vain; Forbear  
To strive with with whom, thy welcome cannot lead  
To eat thy Kid; or taste thy proffered bread;  
Convert thy bounty to a better end,  
And let thy undefiled hands commend  
A burnt oblation to the King of Kings;  
IT is he, deserves the thanks; his servant brings  
But that bare message with his lips enjoin;  
His be the glory of the Act, not mine.  
Said then the Israelite; If my desire  
Be not to over rash, but may conspire  
With thy good pleasure, let thy servants ear  
Be honoured with thy name; that whensoe'er  
These blessed tidings (that possess my heart  
With firm belief,) shall in due time impart  
Their full perfection, and desired success  
To my expecting eye, my soul may bless  
The tongue that brought the message, and proclaim  
An equal honour to his honoured name.  
To whom, the Angel (whose severer brow  
Sent forth a frown) made answer; Do not thou  
Trouble thy busy thoughts with things, that are  
Above thy reach; Inquire not too far;  
My name is clothed in mists; IT is not my task,  
To make it known to thee; nor thine, to ask:  
The generous Spaniel, loves his Master's eye,  
And licks his fingers, though no meat be by;  
But Man, ungrateful Man, that's borne, and bred  
By Heavens immediate power; maintained and fed  
By his providing hand; observed, attended  
By his indulgent grace; preserved, defended  
By his prevailing arm; this Man, I say,  
Is more ungrateful, 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 business; Pastimes, for our leisure;  
In grief, he is our joy; in want, our Wealth;  
In bondage, Freedom; and in sickness, Health;  
In peace, our Counsel; and in war, our Leader;  
At Sea, our Pilot; and, in Suits, our Pleader;  
In pain, our Help; in Triumph, our Renown;  
In life, our Comfort; and in death, our Crown;  
Yet Man, O most ungrateful Man, can ever  
Enjoy the Gift, but never mind the Giver;  
And like the Swine, though pampered with enough,  
His eyes are never higher than the Trough:  
We still receive: Our hearts we seldom lift  
To heaven; But drown the giver in the Gift;  
We taste the Skollops, and return the Shells;  
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 than a curse.  
Great giver of all blessngs; thou that art  
The Lord of Gifts; give me a grateful heart:  
O give me that, or keep thy favours from me:  
I wish no blessings, with a Vengeance to me.    

SECT. 6.  
ARGUMENT.  

Affrighted Manoah and his wife  
Both prostrate on the naked earth:  
Both rise: The man despairs of life;  
The woman cheers him: Samsons birth.   

When time, (whose progress moderates and outweares  
Th' extremest passions of the highest Fears)  
By his benignant power, had reinlarged  
Their captive senses, and at length, discharged  
Their frighted thoughts, the trembling Couple rose  
From their unquiet, and disturbed repose:  
Have you beheld a Tempest, how the waves  
(Whose unresisted Tyranny outbraves  
And threats to grapple with the darkened Skies)  
How like to moving Mountains they arise  
From their distempered Ocean, and assail  
Heavens Battlements; nay when the winds do fail  
To breathe another blast, with their own motion,  
They still are swelling, and disturb the Ocean:  
Even so the Danite and his trembling wife,  
Their yet confused thoughts, are still at strife  
In their perplexed breasts, which entertained  
Continued fears, too strong to be refrained:  
Speechless they stood, till Manoah that broke  
The silence first, disclosed his lips and spoke;   

What strange aspect was this, that to our sight  
Appeared so terrible, and did affright  
Our scattering thoughts? What did our eyes behold?  
I fear our lavish tongues have been too bold:  
What speeches passed between us? Canst recall  
The words we entertained the time withal?  
It was no man; It was no flesh and blood;  
Me thought, mine ears did tingle, while he stood,  
And communed with me: At each word, he spoke  
Me thought, my heart recoiled; his voice did shake  
My very Soul, but when as he became  
So angry, and so dainty of his name,  
O, how my wonder-smitten heart began  
To fail! O, than I knew, it was no man:  
No, no; It was the face of God: Our eyes  
Have seen 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 over come her fears) replied;   

Despairing Man; take courage, and forbear  
These false predictions; there's no cause of fear:  
Would Heaven accept our offerings, and receive  
Our holy things; and, after that, bereive  
His servants of their lives? Can he be thus  
Pleased with our offerings, unappeared with us?  
Hath he not promised that the time shall come,  
Wherein the fruits of my restored womb  
Shall make thee Father to a hopeful Son?  
Can Heaven be false? Or can these things be done  
When we are dead? No, no; His holy breath  
Had spent in vain, if he had meant our death:  
Recall thy needless fears; Heaven cannot lie;  
Although we saw his face, we shall not dye.  
So said; they broke off their discourse, and went,  
He, to the field; and she into her Tent:   

Thrice forty days not full complete, being come,  
Within th' enclosure of her quickened womb,  
The babe began to spring; and, with his motion,  
Confirmed the faith, and quickened the devotion  
Ofhis believing parents, whose devout  
And heaven-ascending Orizans, no doubt,  
Were turned to thanks, and heart-rejoicing praise,  
To holy Hymns, and heavenly Roundelays:  
The child grows sturdy; Every day gives strength  
Unto his womb fed limbs; till at the length,  
Th' apparent mother, having past the date  
Of her account, does only now await  
The happy hour, wherein she may obtain  
Her greatest pleasure, with her greatest pain.  
When as the fair directress of the night  
Had thrice three times repaired her wained light,  
Her womb no longer able to retain  
So great a guest, betrayed her to her pain,  
And for the toilsome work, that she had done,  
She found the wages of a new borne Son:  
Samson, she called his name: The child increased,  
And hourly sucked a blessing with the breast;  
Daily his strength did double: He began  
To grow in favour both with God and Man:  
His well attended Infancy was blessed  
With sweetness; in his Childhood, he expressed  
True seeds of Honour, and his youth was crowned  
With high and brave adventures, which renowned  
His honoured name; His courage was supplied  
With mighty strength: His haughty spirit defied  
An host of men: His power had the praise  
'Bove all that were before, or since his days:  
And to conclude, Heaven never yet conjoined  
So strong a body, with so stout a mind.   

MEDITAT. 6.  

HOw precious were those blessed days, wherein  
Souls never startled at the name of Sin!  
When as the voice of Death had never yet  
A mouth to open, or to claim a debt!  
When bashful nakedness forbore to call  
For needless skins to cover Shame withal  
When as the fruit-encreasing earth obeyed  
The will of Man without the wound of Spaide,  
Or help of Art! When he, that now remains  
A cursed Captive to infernal chains,  
Sat singing Anthems in the heavenly Choir,  
Among his fellow Angels! When the Briar,  
The fruitless Bramble, the fast growing weed,  
And downy Thistle had, as yet, no seed!  
When labour was not known, and man did eat  
The earth's fair fruits, unearned with his sweat!  
When wombs might have conceived without the stain  
Of sin, and brought forth children, without pain!  
When Heaven could speak to man's unfrighted care,  
Without the sense of sin-begotten fear!  
How golden were those days? How happy than  
Was the condition and the State of man!  
But Man obeyed not: And his proud desire  
Cinged her bold feathers in forbidden fire:  
But Man transgressed; And now his freedom feels  
A sudden change: Sin follows at his heels:  
The voice calls Adam: But poor Adam flees,  
And, trembling, hides his face behind the trees:  
The voice, whilere, that ravished with delight  
His joyful ear, does now, alas, affright  
His wounded conscience, with amaze and wonder:  
And what, of late, was music; now, is Thunder:  
How have our sins abused us! and betrayed  
Our desperate souls! What strangeness have they made  
Betwixt the great Creator, and the work  
Of his own hands! How closely do they lurk  
To our distempered souls, and whisper fears  
And doubts into our frighted hearts and ears!  
Our eyes cannot behold that glorious face,  
Which is all life, unruined in the place:  
How is our natures changed? That very breath  
Which gave us being, is become our death:  
Great God O, whither shall poor mortals fly  
For comfort? If they see thy face, they die;  
And if thy life-restoring countenance give  
Thy presence from us; then we cannot live:  
How necessary is the ruin, than,  
And misery of sin-beguiled Man!  
On what foundation shall his hopes rely?  
See we thy face, or see it not, we die:   

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 admire, and believe.     


Which entertained my pleased thoughts, appeared  
A sairer object; which, hath so endeared  
My very soul, (with sadness so distressed)  
That this poor heart can find no ease, no rest;  
It was a Virgin; in whose Heavenly face,  
Vnpatterned Beauty, and diviner Grace  
Were so conjoined, as if they both conspired  
To make one Angel; when these eyes enquired  
Into the excellence of her rare perfection,  
They could not choose but like, and my affection  
Is so inslamed with desire, that I  
Am now become close prisoner to her eye;  
Now if my sad Petition may but find  
A fair success, to ease my tortured mind;  
And if your tender hearts be pleased to prove  
As prone to pity mine; as mine, to love;  
Let me, with joy, exchange my single life,  
And be the husband of so fair a wife.  
Whereto, th' amazed parents, (in whose eye  
Distaste and wonder perched) made this reply;   

What strange desire, what unadvised request  
Hath broken loose from thy distracted breast?  
What! are the daughters of thy brethren grown  
So poor in Worth, and Beauty? Is there none  
To please that overcurious 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 soul rejoice  
In lawful beauty: Make a wiser choice:   

How well this counsel pleased the tired ears  
Of lovesick Samson; O, let him that bears  
A crossed affection judge: Let him discover  
The woeful case of this afflicted lover:  
What easy pencil cannot represent  
His very looks? How his stern Brows were bend?  
His drooping head? his very port and guise?  
His bloodless cheeks, and deadness of his eyes?  
Till, at the length, his moving tongue betrayed  
His sullen lips to language, thus; and said: Sir.   

Th' extreme affection of my heart does lead  
My tongue, (that's quickened with my love) to plead  
What, if her parents be not circumcised?  
Her issue shall; and she, perchance, advised  
To worship Israells' God; and, to forget  
Her father's house; Alas; she is, as yet,  
But young; her downy years are green, and tender;  
she's but a twig, and time may easily bend her  
T'embrace the truth: Our counsels may control  
Her sinful breeding, and so save a soul:  
Nay; who can tell, but Heaven did recommend  
Her beauty to these eyes, for such an end?  
O lose not that, which Heaven is pleased to save,  
Let Samson then obtain, as well as crave:  
You gave me being, then prolong my life  
And make me husband to so fair a wife.  
With that, the parents joined their whispering heads;  
Samson observes; and, in their parley, reads  
Some Characters of hope; The mother smiles;  
The father frowns; which, Samson reconciles  
With hopeful fears; She smiles, and crownes  
His hopes; which, He deposes with his frowns:  
The whispering ended; jointly they displayed,  
A half resolved countenance, and said,   

Samson, suspend thy troubled mind a while,  
Let not thy over charged thoughts recoil:  
Take heed of Shipwreck; Rocks are near the Shore:  
we'll see the Virgin, and resolve thee more.   

MEDITAT. 7.  

LOve is a noble passion of the heart;  
That, with it very essence doth impart  
All needful Circumstances, and effects  
Unto the chosen party it affects;  
In absence, it enjoys; and with an eye.  
Filled with celestial fire, doth espy  
Objects remote: It joys, and smiles in grief;  
It sweetens poverty; It brings relief;  
It gives the Feeble, strength; the Coward, spirit;  
The sick man, health; the undeserving, merit;  
It makes the proudman, humble; and the stout  
It overcomes; and treads him under foot;  
It makes the mighty man of war to droop;  
And him, to serve, that never, yet, could stoop;  
It is a Fire whose Bellowes are the breath  
Of heaven above, and kindled here beneath:  
'tis not the power of a man's election  
To love; He loves not by his own direction;  
It is nor beauty, nor benign aspect  
That always moves the Lover, to affect;  
These are but means: Heavens pleasure is the cause;  
Love is not bound to reason, and her Laws  
Are not subjected to the imperious will  
Of man: It lies not in his power to nill:  
How is this Love abused! That's only made  
A snare for wealth, or to set up a trade;  
T' enrich a great man's Table, or to pay  
A desperate debt; or merely to allay  
A base and wanton lust; which done, no doubt,  
The love is ended, and her fire out:  
No; he that loves for pleasure, or for pelf,  
Loves truly, none; and, falsely, but himself:  
The pleasure past, the wealth consumed and gone,  
Love hath no subject now to work upon:  
The props being fall'n, that did support the roof,  
Nothing but Rubbish, and neglected Stuff,  
Like a wild Chaos of Confusion, lies  
Presenting useless ruins to our eyes:  
The Oil that does maintain loves sacred fire,  
Is virtue mixed with mutual desire  
Of sweet society, begun and bred  
I'th' soul; nor ended in the marriage bed:  
This is that dew of Hermon, that does fill  
The soul with sweetness, watering Zions hill;  
This is that holy fire, that burns and lasts,  
Till quenched by death; The other are but blasts,  
That faintly blaze like Oyle-for saken snusses,  
Which every breath of discontentment puffs  
And quite extinguishes; and leaves us nothing  
But an offensive subject of our loathing.     

SECT. 8.  
ARGUMENT.  

He goes to Timnah: As he went,  
He slew a Lion, by the way;  
He sues; obtains the Maid's consent:  
And they appoint the marriage day.   

WHen the next day had, which his morning light,  
Redeemed the East from the dark shades of night;  
And, with his golden rays, had overspred  
The neighbouring Mountains; from his loathed Bed,  
Sicke-thoughted Samson rose, whose watchful eyes,  
Morpheus that night had, with his leaden keys,  
Not power to close: His thoughts did so encumber  
His restless soul, his eyes could never slumber;  
Whose softer language, by degrees, did wake  
His father's sleepe-bedeafned ears, and spoke;   

Sir; Let your early blessings light upon  
The tender bosom of your prosperous Son,  
And let the God of Israel repay  
Those blessings, double, on your head, this day:  
The long-since banished shadows make me bold  
To let you know, the morning waxes old;  
The Sunbeams are grown strong; their brighter hue  
Have broke the Mists, and dried the morning dew;  
The sweetness of the season does invite  
Your steps to visit Timnah, and acquit  
Your last night's promise:  
With that, the Danite and his wife arose,  
Scarce yet resolved, at last, they did dispose  
Their doubtful paces, to behold the prize  
Of Samsons heart, and pleasure of his eyes;  
They went; and when their travel had attained  
Those fruitful hills, whose clusters entertained  
Their thirsty palates, with their swelling pride,  
The musing lover being stepped a side  
To gain the pleasure of a lonely thought,  
Appeared a full aged Lion, who had sought,  
(But could not find) his long desired prey;  
Soon as his eye had given him hopes to pay  
His debt to nature, and to mend that fault  
His empty stomach found, he made assault  
Upon th' unarmed lover's breast, whose hand  
Had neither staff, nor weapon, to withstand  
His greedy rage; but he whose mighty strength  
Or sudden death must now appear, at length,  
Stretched forth his brawny arm, (his arm supplied  
With power from heaven) and did, with ease, divide  
His body limb from limb, and did betray  
His Flesh to fowls, that lately sought his prey:  
This done; his quick redoubled paces make  
His stay amends; his nimble steps o'ertake  
His leading parents; who by this, discover  
The smoke of Timnah: Now the greedy Lover  
Thinks every step, a mile; and every pace,  
A measured League, until he see that face,  
And find the treasure of his heart, that lies  
In the fair Casket of his Mistress Eyes,  
But, all this while, close Samson made not known  
Unto his parents, what his hands had done:  
By this, the gate of Timnah entertains  
The welcome travellers: The parents pains  
Are now rewarded with their son's best pleasure:  
The Virgin comes; His eyes can find no leisure,  
To own another object: O, the greeting  
Th' impatient lovers had at their first meeting!  
The Lover speaks; She answers; He replies;  
She blushes; He demandeth; She denies;  
He pleads affection; She doubts; He sues  
For nuptial love; She questions; He renews  
His earnest suit: Importunes; She relents;  
He must have no denial; She consents:  
They pass their mutual loves: Their joined hands  
Are equal earnests of the nuptial bands:  
The parents are agreed; All parties pleased;  
The day's set down; the lover's hearts are eased;  
Nothing displeases now, but the long stay  
Betwixt th' appointment, and the marriage day.   

MEDITAT. 8.  

'tIs too severe a censure: If the Son  
Take him a wife; the marriage fairly done,  
Without consent of parents, (who perchance  
Had raised his higher price, knew where t'advance  
His bettered fortunes to one hundred more)  
He lives, a Fornicator; She, a Whore:  
Too hard a censure! And it seems to me,  
The parent's most delinquent of the three:  
What; if the better minded Son do aim  
At worth? What, if rare virtues do inflame  
His rapt affection? What, if the condition  
Of an admired, and dainty disposition  
Hath won his soul? Where as the covetous Father  
Finds her Gold light, and recommends him, rather,  
T' an old worn widow, whose more weighty purse  
Is filled with gold, and with the Orphan's curse;  
The sweet exubrance of whose full-mouthed portion  
Is but the cursed issue of extortion;  
Whose worth, perchance, lies only in her weight,  
Or in the bosom of her great estate;  
What, if the Son, (that does not care to buy  
Abundance at so dear a rate) deny  
The soule-detesting proffer of his Father,  
And in his better judgement chooses, rather,  
To match with meaner Fortunes, and desert?  
I think that Mary chose the better part.   

What noble Families (that have out grown  
The best records) have quite binoverthrowne  
By wilful parents, that will either force  
Their sons to match, or haunt them with a curse!  
That can adapt their humours, to rejoice,  
And fancy all things, but their children's choice!  
Which makes them, often, timorous to reveal  
The close desires of their hearts, and steal  
Such matches, as, perchance, their fair advice  
Might, in the bud, have hindered in a trice;  
Which done, and past, O, than their hasty spirit  
Can think of nothing, under Disinherit;  
He must be quite discarded, and exiled;  
The furious father must renounce his child;  
Nor Prayer nor Blessing must he have; bereiven  
Of all; Nor must he live, nor die forgiven;  
When as the Father's rashness, often times,  
Was the first causer of the children's crimes.   

Parents; be not too cruel: Children do  
Things, oft, too deep for us t' inquire into:  
What father would not siorme, if his wild Son  
Should do the deed, that Samson here had done?  
Nor do I make it an exemplar act;  
Only, let parents not be too exact,  
To curse their children, or to dispossess  
Them of their blessings, Heaven may chance to bless:  
Be not too strict: Fair language may recure  
A fault of youth, whilst rougher words obdure.     

SECT. 9  
ARGUMENT.  

Samson goes down to celebrate  
His marriage, and his nuptial feast:  
The Lion, which he slew of late  
Hath honey in his putrid breast:   

WHen as the long expected time was come,  
Wherein these lingering Lovers should consumme  
The promised marriage, and observe therites,  
Pertaining to those festival delights,  
Samson went down to Timnah; there, t'enjoy  
The sweet possession of his dearest joy;  
But as he passed those fruitful Vineyards, where  
His hands, of late, acquit him of that fear  
(Wherewith the fierce assaulting Lion quailed  
His yet unpractised courage) and prevailed  
Upon his life; as by that place he passed,  
He turned aside, and borrowed of his haste,  
A little time, wherein his eyes might view  
The Carcase of the Lion which he flew;  
But when his wand'ring footsteps had drawn near  
The unlamented hearse, his wand'ring ear   

MEDITAT. 9  

HOw high, unutterable, how profound,  
(Whose depth the line of knowledge cannot sound)  
Are the decrees of the Eternal God  
How secret are his ways— and how untrod  
By man's conceit, so deeply charged with doubt!  
How are his Counsels past our finding out!  
O, how unscrutable are his designs!  
How deep, and how unsearchable are the Mines  
Of his abundant Wisdom! How obscure  
Are his eternal judgements! and how sure!  
Lists he to strike? The very Stones shall fly  
From their unmoved Foundations, and destroy:  
Lists he to punish? Things that have no sense,  
Shall vindicate his Quarrel, on th' Offence:  
Lists he to send a plague? The winter's heat  
And summer's damp, shall make his will complete:  
Lists he to send the Sword? Occasion brings  
New jealousies betwixt the hearts of Kings.  
will he afamine? Heaven shall turn to brass,  
And earth to Iron, till it come to pass:  
With stocks, and stones, and plants and beasts fulfil  
The secret Counsel of his sacred will,  
Man, only wretched Man, is disagreeing  
To do that thing, for which he hath his being  
Samson must down to Timnah; In the way,  
Must meet a Lion, whom his hands must slay;  
The Lyo'ns' putrid Carcase must enclose  
A swarm of Bees; and, from the Bees, arose  
A Riddle; and that Riddle must be read  
And by the reading, Choler must be bred,  
And that must bring to pass Gods just designs  
Upon the death of the false Philistines:  
Behold the progress, and the royal Gests  
Of Heavens high vengeance; how it never rests,  
Till, by appointed courses, it fulfil  
The secret pleasure of his sacred will.   

Great Saviour of the world; Thou Lamb of Zion,  
That hides our sins: Thou art that wounded Lion:  
O, in thy dying body, we have found  
A world of honey; 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 ploughed  
With thy sweet Hayfer's, able to uncloud;  
Such sacred Mysteries, whose eternal praise  
Shall make both Angels, and archangels raise  
Their louder voices; and, in triumph, sing,  
All Glory and Honour to our highest King,  
And to the Lamb, that sits upon the throne;  
Worthy of power and praise is he, alone,  
Whose glory hath advanced our key of mirth;  
Glory to God, on high; and peace, on Earth.     

SECT. 10.  
ARGUMENT.  

The Bridegroom, at his nuptial Feast,  
To the Philistians, doth propound  
A Riddle: which they all addressed  
Themselves, in counsel, to expound.   

NOw, when the glory of the next day's light  
Had chased the shadows of the tedious night,  
When coupling Hymen, with his nuptial bands,  
And golden Fetters, had conjoined their hands;  
When jolly welcome had, to every Guest,  
Exposed the bounty of the marriage Feast;  
Their now appeased stomaches did enlarge  
Their captive tongues, with power to discharge  
And quit their Table-duty, and disburse  
Their store of interchangeable discourse,  
Th' ingenious Bridegroom turned his rolling eyes  
Upon his guard of Bridemen, and applies  
His speech to them: And, whilst that every man  
Lent his attentive ear, he thus began;   

My tongue's in labour, and my thoughts abound;  
I have a doubtful Riddle, to propound;   

MEDITAT. 10.  

THere is a time, to laugh: A time, to turn  
Our smiles to tears: There is a time to mourn:  
There is a time for joy; and a time for grief;  
A time to want; and a time to find relief;  
A time to bind; and there's a time to break;  
A time for silence; and a time to speak;  
A time to labour; and a time to rest;  
A time to fast in; and a time to feast:  
Things, that are lawful, have their times and use;  
Created good; and, only by abuse,  
Made bad: Our sinful usage does unfashion  
What heaven hath made, and makes a new creation:  
joy is a blessing: but too great excess  
Makes joy, a Madness, and, does quite unblesse  
So sweet a gift; And, what, by moderate use;  
Crowns our desires, banes them in th' abuse:  
Wealth is a blessing; But too eager thirst  
Of having more, makes what we have, accursed:  
Rest is a blessing; But when Rest withstands  
The healthful labour of our helpful hands,  
It proves a curse; and stains our guilt, with crime,  
Betrays our irrecoverable time:  
To feast and to refresh our hearts with pleasure,  
And fill our souls with th' overflowing measure  
Of heavens blessed bounty, cannot but commend  
The precious favours of so sweet a friend;  
But, when th' abundance of a liberal diet,  
Meant for a blessing, is abused by Riot,  
Th' abused blessing leaves the gift, nay worse,  
It is transformed, and turned into a curse:  
Things that afford most pleasure, in the use,  
Are ever found most harmful in th' abuse:  
Use them like Masters; and their tyrannous hand  
Subjects thee, like a slave, to their command:  
Use them as Servants; and they will obey thee;  
Take heed; They'll either bless thee, or betray thee.   

Could our Forefathers but revive, and see  
Their children's Feasts, as now a days they be;  
Their studied dishes; Their restoring stuff,  
To make their wanton body's sin enough;  
Their stomacke-whetting Salads, to invite  
Their wasteful palates to an appetite;  
Their thirst-procuring dainties, to refine  
Their wanton tastes, and make them strong, for wine:  
Their costly viands, charged with rich perfume;  
Their Viper-wines, to make old age presume  
To feel new lust, and youthful flames again,  
And serve another prenticeship to sin;  
Their time-betraying Music; their base noise  
Of odious Fiddlers, with their smooth-faced boys,  
Whose tongues are perfect, if they can proclaim  
The Quintessence of baseness, without shame;  
Their deep mouthed curses; New invented Oaths,  
Their execrable Blasphemy, that loathes  
A mind to think on; Their obsceaner words;  
Their drunken Quarrels; Their unsheathed swords;  
O how they'd bless themselves, and blush, for shame,  
In our behalves, and hast from whence they came,  
To kiss 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 sin, and can thy Vengeance hold?     

SECT. 11.  
ARGUMENT.  

The Philistines cannot unsolve  
The Riddle: They corrupt the Bride;  
She woos her Bridegroom to resolve  
Her doubt, but goes away denied.   

NOw when three days had run their hours out,  
And left no hope for wit-forsaken doubt  
To be resolved, the desperate undertakers  
Conjoined their whispering heads; (being all partakers  
And joynt-advisers in their newlaid plot)  
The time's concluded: Have ye not forgot  
How the old Tempter, when he first began  
To work th'unhappy overthrow of man,  
Accosts the simple woman; and reflects  
Upon the frailty of her weaker Sex;  
Even so these cursed Philistians (being taught  
And tutored by the self same spirit) wrought  
The self same way; Their speedy steps are bend  
To the fair 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 crown, due to so fair desert;  
We have a Suit, that must attend the leisure  
Of thy best thoughts, and joy-restoring pleasure;  
Our names, and credits linger at the stake  
Of deep dishonour: If thou undertake,  
With pleasing language, to prevent the loss,  
They must sustain, and draw them from the dross  
Of their own ruins, they shall merely owe  
Themselves unto thy goodness, and shall know  
No other patron, and acknowledge none,  
As their redeemer, but thy love alone:  
We cannot read the Riddle, where unto  
We have engaged our goods, and credits too;  
Entice thy jolly Bridegroom, to unfold  
The hidden Mystery, (what can he withhold  
From the rare beauty of so fair a brow?)  
And when thou know'st it, let thy servants know:  
What? dost thou frown? And must our easy trial,  
At first, read Hieroglyphickes of denial?  
And art thou silent too? Nay, we'll give over  
To tempt thy bridal fondness any more:  
Betray your lovely husbands secrets? No,  
You'll first betray us, and our Land: But know,  
Proud Samsons wife, our furies shall make good  
Our loss of wealth and honour, in thy blood:  
Where fair entreaties spend themselves, in vain,  
There fire shall consume, or else constrain:  
Know then, false hearted Bride, if our request  
Can find no place within thy sullen breast,  
Our hands shall vindicate our lost desire,  
And burn thy Father's house, and thee, with fire:  
Thus having lodged their errand in her ears,  
They left the room; and her, unto her fears;  
Who thus bethought; Hard is the case, that I  
Must or betray my husband's trust, or dye;  
I have a Wolf by th' ears; I dare be bold,  
Neither with safety, to let go, nor hold:  
What shall I do? Their minds if I fulfil not,  
'Tis death; And to betray his trust, I will not:  
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 loss, then in my life;  
His life consists in mine, If ought amiss  
Befall my life, it may endanger his:  
Wagers must yield to life; I hold it best,  
Of necessary evils, to choose the least:  
Why doubt I then? When Reason bids me do;  
I'll know the Riddle, and betray it too:  
With that, she quits her chamber, with her cares,  
And in her closet locks up all her fears,  
And, with a speed untainted with delay,  
She found that breast, wherein her own heart lay;  
Where resting for a while, at length, did take  
A fair occasion to look up, and spoke:   

Life of my soul, and loves perpetual treasure,  
If my desires be suiting to thy pleasure,  
My lips would move a Suit; My doubtful breast  
Would fain prefer an undenyde request:  
When strength of wit, and secret power of fraud  
Grow dull, constraint must conquer, and applaud  
With ill got victory; which, at length obtained,  
Alas, how poor a trifle have we gained!  
How are our souls distempered; to engross  
Such fading pleasures! To ore-prize the dress,  
And underrate the gold! for painted joys,  
To sell the true; and heaven itself for Toys!   

Lord; clarify mine eyes, that I may know  
Things that are good, from what are good in show:  
And give me wisdom, that my heart may learn  
The difference of thy favours, and discern  
What's truly good from what is good, in part;  
With Martha's trouble, give me Maries heart.    

SECT. 12.  
ARGUMENT.  

The Bride she begs, and begs in vain:  
But like to a prevailing wooer,  
She sues, and sues, and sues again;  
At last he reads the Riddle to her.   

WHen the next morning had renewed the day,  
And th' early twilight now had chased away  
The pride of night, and made her lay aside  
Her spangled Robes, the discontented Bride  
(Whose troubled thoughts were tired with the night,  
And broken slumbers long had wished for light)  
With a deep sigh, her sorrow did awake  
Her drowsy Bridegroom, whom she thus bespoke;  
O, if thy love could share an equal part  
In the sad griefs of my asflicted heart,  
Thy closed eyes had never, in this sort,  
Been pleased with rest, and made thy night so short;  
Perchance, if my dull eyes had slumbered too,  
My dreams had done, what thou denied to do:  
Perchance, my Fancy would have been so kind,  
T' unsolve the doubts of my perplexed mind,  
I was a small suit, that thy unlucky Bride  
Must light upon: Too small, to be denied:  
Can love so soon—? But ere her lips could spend  
The following words, he said, suspend, suspend  
Thy rash attempt, and let thy tongue dispense  
With forced denial: Let thy lips commence  
Some greater Suit, and Samson shall make good  
Thy fair desires, with his dearest blood:  
Speak then, my love; thou shalt net wish, and want;  
Thou canst not beg, what Samson cannot grant:  
Only, in this, excuse me: and refrain  
To beg, what thou, perforce, must beg in vain.  
Inexorable Samson: Can the tears  
From those fair eyes, not move thy deafened ears?  
O can those drops, that trickle from those eyes  
Upon thy naked bosom, not surprise  
Thy neighbouring heart? and force it to obey?  
O can thy heart not melt, as well as they?  
Thou little thinkst thy poor afflicted wife  
Importunes thee, and woos thee for her life:  
Her Suit's as great a Riddle to thine ears,  
As thine, to hers; O, these distilling tears  
Are silent pleaders, and her moistred breath  
Would fain redeem her, from the gates of death?  
May not her tears prevail? Alas, thy strife  
Is but for wagers; Her's, poor Soul, for life.  
Now when this day had yielded up his right  
To the succeeding Empress of the night,  
Whose soone-deposed reign did reconvay  
Her crown and Sceptre to the new borne day,  
The restless Bride (fears cannot brook denial)  
Renews her suit, and attempts a further trial;  
Entreats; conjures; she leaves no way untride:  
She will not; no, she must not be denied:  
But he (the portals of whose marble heart  
Was locked and barred against the powerful art  
Of oft repeated tears) stood deaf and dumb;  
He must not, no, he will not be o'ercome.  
Poor Bride! How is thy glory overcast!  
How is the pleasure of the nuptials passed,  
When scarce begun! Alas, how poor a breath  
Of joy, must puff thee to untimely death!  
The day's at hand, wherein thou must untie  
The Riddles tangled Snarl, or else must die;  
Now, when that day was come wherein the feast  
Was to expire; the Bride, (whose pensive breast  
Grew sad to death) did once more undertake  
Her too resolved Bridegroom thus, and spoke:   

Upon these knees, that prostrate on the floor,  
Are lowly bended, and shall never give over  
To move thy goodness, that shall never rise,  
Until my Suit finds favour in thine eyes,  
Upon 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 vowed 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 own, to me? Then, give me leave to sue  
For what, my right may challenge as her due;  
Unfold thy Riddle then, that I may know,  
Thy love is more, then only love, in show:   

The Bridegroom, thus enchanted by his Bride,  
Unsealed his long-kept silence, and replied:  
Thou sole, and great commandress of my heart,  
Thou hast prevailed; my bosom shall impart  
The sum of thy desires, and discharge  
The faithful secrets of my soul, at large;   

Know then, (my joy) Upon that very day,  
I, first, made known my'affection, on the way,  
I met, and grappled with a sturdy Lion,  
Having nor staff nor weapon, to rely on,  
I was enforced to prove my naked strength;  
Unequal was the match; But, at the length,  
This brawney arm, receiving strength from him  
That gave it life, I tore him limb from limb,  
And left him dead: Now when the time was come,  
Wherein our promised nuptials were to sum,  
And perfect all my joys, as I was coming  
That very way, a strange confused humming,  
Not distant far, possessed my wondering ear;  
Where guided by the noise, there did appear  
A Swarm of Bees, whose busy labours filled  
The Carcase of that Lion which I killed,  
With Combs of Honey, wherewithal I fed  
My lips and thine: And now my Riddle's read.   

MEDITAT. 12.  

THe soul of man, before the taint of Nature,  
Bore the fair Image of his great Creator;  
His understanding had no cloud: His will  
No cross: That, knew no Error; This, no ill:  
But man transgressed; And by his woeful fall,  
Lost that fair Image, and that little all  
Was left, was all corrupt: His understanding  
Exchanged her object; Reason left commanding;  
His Memory was depraved, and his will  
Can find no other subject now, but Ill:  
It grew distempered, left the righteous reine  
Of better Reason, and did entertain  
The rule of Passion, under whose command,  
It suffered Shipwreck, 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, blind;  
Doubt makes it light, and waver like the wind;  
Hate makes it fierce, and studious; Anger, mad;  
joy makes it careless; Sorrow, dull and sad;  
Hope makes it nimble, for a needless trial;  
Fear makes it too impatient of denial.  
Great Lord of humane souls; O thou, that art  
The only 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 Souls put out of fashion!  
How are our Wills subjected to our passion!  
How is thy glorious Image soiled, defaced,  
And stained with sin! How are our thoughts displaced!  
How wavering are our hopes, turned here and there  
With every blast! How carnal is our fear!  
Where needs no fear, we start at every shade,  
But fear not, where we ought to be afraid.   

Great God If thou wilt please but to refine  
Our hearts, and reconforme our wills, to thine,  
Thou'lt take a pleasure in us, and poor we  
Should find as infinite delight in Thee;  
Our doubts would cease, our fears would all remove,  
And all our passions would turn joy, and Love;  
Till then, expect for nothing that is good:  
Remember, Lord, we are but Flesh and Blood.     

SECT. 13.  
ARGUMENT.  

The Philistines, by her advice,  
Expound the Riddle: Samson killed  
Thirty Philistians, in a trice;  
Forsakes his Bride: His Bed's defiled.   

NO sooner was the Bride's attentive ears  
Resolved and pleased; but her impetuous fears  
Calls in the Bridemen; and, to them betrayed  
The secret of the Riddle thus, and said:   

You Sons of Thunder; 'twas not the loud noise  
Of your provoking threats, nor the soft voice  
Of my prevailing fears, that thus addressed  
My yielding heart to grant your forced request;  
Your language needed not have been so rough  
To speak too much, when lesse had been enough:  
Your speech at first, was honey in mine ear;  
At length, it proved a Lion, and did tear  
My wounded soul: It sought to force me to  
What your entreaties were more apt to do:  
Know then (to keep your lingering ears no longer  
From what ye long to hear;) There's nothing stronger  
Than a fierce Lion: Nothing more can greet  
Your pleased palates, with a greater sweet,  
Then Honey: But more fully to expound,  
In a dead Lion, there was Hony found.   

Now when the Sun was welking in the West,  
(Whose fall determines both the day, and Feast)  
The hopeful Bridegroom (he whose smiling brow  
Assured his hopes a speedy Conquest now)  
Even thirsting for victorious Triumph, broke  
The crafty silence of his lips, and spoke:   

The time is come, whose latest hour ends  
Our nuptial Feast, and fairly recommends  
The wreath of Conquest to the victor's brow;  
Say; Is the Riddle read? Expound it now;  
And, for your pains, these hands shall soon resign  
Your conquered prize: If not; The prize is mine:  
With that, they joined their whispering heads, and made  
A Speaker; who, in louder language, said;  
Of all the sweets, that ere were known,  
There's none so pleasing be,  
As those rare dainties, which do crown  
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 yield  
Unto the stronger Lyon.  
Whereto th' offended Challenger, whose eye  
Proclaimed a quick Revenge, made this reply:  
No Hony's sweeter than a woman's tongue;  
And, when she list, Lions are not so strong:  
How thrice accursed are they, that do fulfil  
The lewd desires of a woman's will!  
How more accursed is he, that doth impart  
His bosom secrets to a woman's heart;  
They plead like Angels, and, like Crocodiles,  
Kill with their tears; They murder with their smiles:  
How weak a thing is woman? Nay how weak  
Is senseless Man, that will be urged to break  
His counsels in her ear, that hath no power  
To make secure a secret, for an hour!  
No; victors, no: Had not a woman's mind  
Been faithless, and unconstant, as the wind,  
My Riddle had, till now, a Riddle been;  
You might have mused; and mist; and mused again,  
When the next day had heaved his golden head  
From the soft pillow of his Seagreene bed;  
And, with his rising glory, had possessed  
The spacious borders of th' enlightened East,  
Samson arose; and, in a rage, went down  
(By heaven directed) to a neighbouring town;  
His choler was inflamed; and, from his eye  
The sudden flashes of his wrath did fly;  
Paleness was in his cheeks; and, from his breath,  
There flew the fierce Ambassadors of death;  
He heaved his hand; and where it fell, it slew;  
He spent, and still his forces would renew;  
His quick-redoubled blows fell thick as thunder;  
And, whom he took alive, he tore in sunder:  
His arm ne'er missed; And often, at a blow,  
He made a Widow, and an Orphan too:  
Here, it divides the Father from the child;  
The husband, from his wife; there, it despoiled  
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 joined in blood,  
Wherein, his ruthless hands he did imbrue;  
Thrice ten, before he scarce could breathe, he slew;  
Their upper Garments, which he took away,  
Were all the spoils the victor had, that day;  
Where with, he quit the wagers that he lost,  
Paying Philistians, with Philistians cost;  
And thus, at length, with blood he did assuage,  
But yet not quench the fire of his rage,  
For now the thought of his disloyal wife,  
In his sad soul, renewed a second strife,  
From whom, for fear his fury should recoil,  
He thought most fit t' absent himself awhile;  
Unto his father's Tent, he now returned;  
Where, his divided passion raged, and mourned;  
In part, he mourned; and, he raged, in part,  
To see so fair a face; so false a heart:  
But mark the mischief that his absence brings;  
His bed's defiled, and the nuptial strings  
Are stretched and cracked: A second love doth smother  
The first; And she is wedded to another.   

MEDITAT. 13.  

Was this that womb, the Angel did enlarge  
From barrenness? And gave so strict a charge?  
Was this that womb, that must not be defiled  
With unclean meats, lest it pollute the child?  
Is this the Nazarite? May a Nazarite, then,  
Imbrue and paddle in the bloods of men?  
Or may their vows be so dispensed withal,  
That they, who scarce may see a funeral,  
Whose holy footsteps must beware to tread  
Upon, or touch the carcase of the dead?  
May these revenge their wrongs, by blood? May these  
Have power to Kill, and murder where they please?   

'tis true: A holy Nazarite is forbid  
To do such things as this our Nazarite did:  
He may not touch the bodies of the dead,  
Without pollution; much less, may shed  
The blood of man, or touch it, being spilt,  
Without the danger of a double guilt:  
But who art thou, that art an undertaker,  
To question with, or plead against thy Maker?  
May not that God, that gave thee thy creation,  
Turn 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 again,  
Man may securely labour, and not sin;  
A Nazarite is not allowed to shed  
The blood of man, or once to touch the dead;  
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  
Upon confusion, that's the God of order?  
The Persian Laws no time may contradict;  
And are the Laws of God less firm and strict?   

An earthly Parent wills his child to stand  
And wait; within a while, he gives command  
(Finding the weakness of his Son oppressed  
With weariness) that he sit down and rest;  
Is God unconstant then; because he pleases  
To alter, what he willed us, for our eases?  
Know, likewise, O ungrateful flesh and blood,  
God limits his own glory, for our good;  
He is the God of mercy, and he prizes  
Thine Ass' life, above his Sacrifices;  
His Sabbath is his glory, and thy rest;  
he'll lose some honour, ere thou lose a Beast:   

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

SECT. 14.  
ARGUMENT.  

Samson comes down to reenjoy  
His wife: Her father does withstand:  
For which, he threatens to destroy  
And ruin him, and all the land.   

But Samson, (yet not knowing what was past,  
For wronged husbands ever are the last  
That hear the news) thus with himself bethought;   

It cannot be excused: It was a fault,  
It was a foul one too; and, at first sight,  
Too great for love, or pardon to acquit:  
O, had it been a stranger, that betrayed  
Reposed secrets, I had only laid  
The blame upon my unadvised tongue;  
Or had a common friend but done this wrong  
To bosom trust, my patience might outworn it;  
I could endured, I could have easily borne it;  
But thus to be betrayed by a wife,  
The partner of my heart; to whom my life,  
My very soul was not esteemed dear,  
Is more than flesh, is more than blood can bear:  
But yet alas, She was but green, and young,  
And had not gained the conquest of her tongue;  
Unseasoned vessels, oft, will find a leak  
At first; but after, hold: She is but weak,  
Nay, cannot yet write woman; which, at best,  
Is a frail thing: Alas young things will quest  
At every turn; Indeed, to say the truth,  
Her years could make it but a fault of youth:  
Samson, return; and let that fault be set  
Upon the score of youth: forgive; forget:  
She is my wife: Her love hath power to hide  
A fouler error; Why should I divide  
My presence from her? There's no greater wrong  
To love, then to be silent over long:  
Alas, poor soul! No doubt, her tender eye  
Hath wept enough; perchance she knows not why  
I'm turned so great a stranger to her bed,  
And board: No doubt, her empty eyes have shed  
A world of tears; perchance, her guiltless thought  
Conceives my absence as a greater fault  
Then that, of late, her harmless Error did;  
I'll go and draw a reconciling Kid  
From the fair flock; My feet shall never rest,  
Till I repose me in my Bride's fair breast;  
He went; but ere his speedy lips obtained  
The merits of his haste, darkness had stained  
The crystal brow of day; and gloomy night  
Had spoilt and rifled heaven of all his light:  
H'approached the gates; but, being entered in,  
His careless welcome seemed so cold and thin,  
As if that silence meant, it should appear,  
He was no other, than a stranger, there;  
In every servants look, he did espy  
An easy Copy of their Master's eye;  
He called his wife, but she was gone to rest;  
Unto her wont chamber he addressed  
His doubtful steps; till, by her father, stayed,  
Who taking him aside a little, said.  
Son;   

It was the late espousals that do move  
My tongue to use that title; not, thy love:  
'tis true; there was a Marriage lately passed  
Between my Child, and you; The knot was fast  
And firmly tied, not subject to the force  
Of any power, but death, or else divorce.  
For aught I saw, a mutual desire  
Kindled your like, and an equal fire  
Of strong affection, joined both your hands  
With the perpetual knot of nuptial bands;  
Mutual delight, and equal joys attended  
Your pleased hearts, until the feast was ended;  
But then, I know no ground, (you know it best)  
As if your loves were measured by the Feast,  
The building fell, before the house did shake,  
Loves fire was quenched, ere it began to slake;  
All on a sudden were your joys disseised;  
Forsook your Bride, and went away displeased;  
You left my child to the opprobrious tongues  
Of open censure, whose mabitious wrongs,  
(Maligning her fair merits) did defame  
Her wounded honour, and unblemished name;  
I thought, thy love, which was so strong, of late,  
He thus began t' attempt his first conclusion;   

The patient Angler, first, provides his bait,  
Before his hopes can teach him to await  
Th' enjoyment of his long expected prey;  
Revengeful Samson, ere he can appay  
His wrongs with timely vengeance, must intend  
To gain the Instruments, to work his end,  
He plants his Engines, hides his snares about,  
Pitches his Toils, finds new devices out,  
To tangle wily Foxes; In few days,  
(That land had store) his studious hand betrays  
A leash of hundreds, which he thus employs,  
As Agents in his rageful enterprise;  
With tough, and force-enduring thongs of Leather,  
He joins and couples tail, and tail together,  
And every thong bound in a Brand of Fire,  
So made by Art, that motion would inspire  
Continual flames, and, as the motion ceased,  
The thrifty blaze would then retire and rest  
In the close Brand, until a second strife  
Gave it new motion; and that motion, life:  
Soon as these coupled Messengers received  
Their fiery Errand, though they were bereived  
Of power to make great haste, they made good speed;  
Their thoughts were differing, though their tails agreed:  
T'one drags and draws to th'East; the other, West;  
One fit, they run; another while they rest;  
T' one skulks and snarls, the t' other tugs and hales;  
At length, both flee, with fire in their tails,  
And in the top and height of all their speed.  
T'one stops, before the tother be agreed;  
The other pulls, and drags his fellow back,  
Whilst both their tails were tortured on the rack;  
At last, both weary of their warm Embassage,  
Their better ease descried a fairer passage,  
And time hath taught their wiser thoughts to join  
More close, and travel in a straighter line:  
Into the open Champion they divide  
Their straggling paces (where the ploughman's pride  
Found a fair Object, in his ripened Corn;  
Whereof, some part was reaped; some, stood unshorn)  
Sometimes, the fiery travellers would seek  
Protection beneath a swelling Reek;  
But soon that harbour grew too hot for stay,  
Affording only light, to run away;  
Sometimes, the full-eared standing-wheat must cover  
And hide their shames; &, there the flames would hover  
About their ears, and send them to inquire  
A cooler place; but, there, the flaming fire  
Would scorch their hides, and send them singed away;  
Thus, doubtful where to go, or where to stay,  
They range about; Flee forward; then retire,  
Now here, now there; Where ere they come, they fire;  
Nothing was left, that was not lost, and burned;  
And now, that fruitful land of Iewry's turned  
A heap of Ashes; That fair land, while ere  
Which filled all hearts with joy, and every ear  
With news of plenty, and of blessed increase,  
(The joyful issue of a happy peace)  
See, how it lies in her own ruins, void  
Of all her happiness, disguised, destroyed:  
With that the Philistines, whose sad relief  
And comfort's deeply buried in their grief,  
Began to question (they did all partake  
In th' irrecoverable loss) and spoke,   

What cursed brand of Hell? What more than Devil,  
What envious Miscreant hath done this evil?  
Whereto, one sadly standing by, replied;   

It was that cursed Samson (whose fair Bride  
Was lately ravished from his absent breast  
By her false father) who before the feast  
Of nuptial was a month expired, and done,  
By second marriage, owned another son;  
For which, this Samson heaved from off the hinge  
Of his lost reason, studied this revenge;  
That Timnits falsehood wrought this desolation;  
Samson the Actor was, but he, th' occasion:  
With that, they all consulted, to proceed  
In height of justice, to revenge this deed;  
Samson, whose hand was the immediate cause  
Of this foul act, is stronger than their laws;  
Him, they refer to time; For his proud hand  
May bring a second ruin to their land;  
The cursed Timnite, he that did divide  
The lawful Bridegroom from his lawful Bride,  
And moved the patience of so strong a foe,  
To bring these evils, and work their overthrow,  
To him they hast; and, with resolved desire  
Of blood, they burn his house, & him with fire.   

MEDITAT. 15.  

Dost thou not tremble? Does thy troubled ear  
Not tingle? nor thy spirits faint to hear  
The voice of those, whose dying shrieks proclaim  
Their tortures, that are broiling in the flame?  
She, whose illustrious beauty did not know  
Where to be matched, but one poor hour ago;  
She, whose fair eyes were apt to make man err  
From his known faith, and turn Idolater;  
She, whose fair cheeks, enriched with true complexion,  
Seemed beauty's store-house of her best perfection;  
See, how she lies, see how this beauty lies,  
A foul offence, unto thy loathing eyes;  
A fleshly Cinder, lying on the floor.  
Stark naked, had it not been covered over  
With bashful ruins, which were fallen down  
From the consumed roof, and rudely thrown  
On this halfe-roasted earth. O, canst thou read  
Her double story, and thy heart not bleed?  
What art thou more than she? Tell me wherein  
Art thou more privileged? Or can thy sin  
Plead more t'excuse it? Art thou fair 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 satisfy  
Revenge; her father, and his house must dye:  
Unpunished crimes do often bring them in,  
That were no less than strangers to the sin:  
Ely must dye; because his fair reproof  
Of too foul sin, was not austere enough:  
Was vengeance now appeased? Hath not the crime  
Paid a sufficient Interest for the time?  
Remove thine eye to the Philistian fields;  
See, what increase their fruitful harvest yields:  
There's nothing there, but a confused heap  
Of ruinous ashes: There's no corn, to reap:  
Behold the poison of unpunished sin;  
For which the very earth's accursed again:  
Famine must act her part; her griping hand,  
For one man's sin, must punish all the Land:  
Is vengeance now appeased? Hath sin given over  
To cry for plagues? Must vengeance yet have more?  
O, now th'impartial sword must come, and spill  
The blood of such, as Famine could not kill:  
The language of unpunished sin cries loud,  
It roars for justice, and it must have blood:  
Famine must follow, where the Fire begun;  
The Sword must end, what both have left undone.   

Just God; our sins do dare thee to thy face;  
Our score is great; our Ephah fills apace;  
The leaden cover threatens, every minute,  
To close the Ephah, and our sins, within it.  
Turn back thine eye: Let not thine eye behold  
Such vile pollutions: Let thy vengeance hold:  
Look on thy dying Son; There shalt thou spy  
An Object, that's more fitter for thine eye;  
His sufferings (Lord) are far above our sins;  
O, look thou there; Ere justice once begins  
T'unsheathe her Sword, O, let one precious drop  
Fall from that pierced side; and that will stop  
The ears of vengeance, from that clamorous voice  
Of our loud sins, which make so great a noise;  
O, send that drop, before Revenge begins,  
And that will cry far louder than our sins.     

SECT. 16.  
ARGUMENT.  

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

THus when th'accursed Philistians had apaid  
The Timnits sin, with ruin; and betrayed  
Th'unjust Offenders to their fierce desire,  
And burned their cursed Family with fire;  
Samson, the greatness of whose debt denied  
So short a payment; and whose wrongs yet cried  
For further vengeance, to be further laid  
Upon the sinne-conniving Nation, said,   

unjust Philistians, you that could behold  
So capital a crime, and yet withhold  
This well-deserved punishment so long,  
Which made you partners in their sin, my wrong;  
Had ye 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 blood;  
O, had your early justice but thought good  
To strike in time; nay, had you then devised  
Some easier punishment, it had sufficed;  
But now it comes too late; The sin has cried,  
Till heaven hath heard, and mercy is denied:  
Nay, had the sin but spared to roar so loud,  
A drop had served, when now a Tide of blood  
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 wisdom's seldom seen, but in the future)  
When well deserved punishment shall call  
For the delinquent Boy; how, first of all,  
He preaches fairly; then, proceeds austerer  
To the foul crime, whilst the suspicious hearer  
Trembles at every word, until, at length,  
His language being ceased, th' unwelcome strength  
Of his rude arm, that often proves too rash,  
Strickes home, and fetches blood at every lash.  
Even so stout Samson, whose more gentle tongue,  
In easy terms, doth first declare the wrong,  
Injustice did, then tells the evil effects  
That man's connivance, and unjust neglects  
Does often bring upon th' afflicted land;  
But, at the last, upheaves his ruthless hand;  
He hews, he hacks, and, fury being guide,  
His unresisted power doth divide  
From top to toe; his furious weapon cleft,  
Where ere it struck: It slew; and never left,  
Until his flesh-destroying arm, at length,  
Could find no subject, where t' employ his strength:  
Here stands a headstrong Steed, whose fainting guider  
Drops down; another drags his wounded rider:  
Now here, now there his frantic arm would thunder,  
And, at one stroke, cleaves horse and man in sunder,  
In whose mixed blood, his hands would oft imbrue,  
And where so ere they did but touch, they slew:  
Here's no employment for the Surgeon's trade,  
All wounds were mortal that his weapon made;  
There's none was left, but dying, or else dead,  
And only they, that scaped his fury, fled;  
The slaughter ended, the proud victor passed  
Through the afflicted land, until, at last,  
He comes to judah; where, he pitched his Tent,  
At the rock 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, pitched not far  
From Samsons Tent; Their hands were armed to war:  
With that, the men of judah, struck with fear,  
To see so great an Army, strait drew near,  
To the sad Camp; who, after they had made  
Some signs of a continued peace, they said;   

What new designs have brought your royal band  
Upon the borders of our peaceful land?  
What strange adventures? What disastrous weather  
Drove you this way? What business brought you hither?  
Let not my Lords be angry, or conceive  
An evil against your Servants: What we have,  
Is yours: The peaceful plenty of our land  
And we, are yours; and at your own command:  
Why, to what purpose are you pleased to show us  
Your strength! Why bring you thus an army to us?  
Are not our yearly Tributes justly paid?  
Have we not kept our vows? Have we delayed  
Our faithful service, or denied to do it,  
When you have pleased to call your servants to it?  
Have we, at any time, upon your trial,  
Shrunk from our plighted faith, or proved disloyal?  
If that proud Samson have abused your Land,  
'tis not our faults; Alas, we had no hand  
In his designs: We lent him no relief;  
No aid; No, we were partners in your grief.  
Where to the Philistines, whose hopes relied  
Upon their fair assistance, thus replied:   

Fear not, ye men of judah; Our intentions  
Are not to wrong your peace: Your apprehensions  
Are tootoo timorous; Our designs are bend  
Against the common Foe, whose hands have spent  
Our lavish blood, and robbed our wasted Land  
Of all her joys: 'tis he, our armed band  
Expects, and follows: He is cloistered here,  
Within your Quarters: Let your faiths appear  
Now in your loyal actions, and convey  
The skulking Rebel to us, that we may  
Revenge our blood, which he hath wasted thus,  
And do to him, as he hath done to us.   

MEDITAT. 16.  

IT was a sharp revenge: But was it just?  
Shall one man suffer for another? Must  
The children's teeth be set on edge, because  
Their Fathers ate the grapes? Are Heavens laws  
So strict? whose lips did, with a promise, tell,  
That no such law should pass in Israel:  
Because th' injurious Timnites treacherous hand  
Commits the fault, must Samson scourge the land?  
Sin is a furious Plague; and it infects  
The next inhabitant, if he neglects  
The means t' avoid it: 'tis not because he sins  
That thou art punished: No, it than begins  
T' infect thy soul; when, thou a slander by,  
Reproves it not: or when thy careless eye  
Slights it as nothing: If a sin of mine  
Grieve not thy wounded soul, it becomes thine.  
Think ye that God commits the Sword of power  
Into the hands of Magistrates, to scour  
And keep it bright? Or only to advance  
His yet unknown Authority? Perchance,  
The glorious Hilt and Scabbard make a show  
To serve his turn; have it a blade, or no,  
He neither knows, nor cares: Is this man fit  
T' obtain so great an honour, as to sit  
As God's Lieutenant, and to punish sin?  
Know leaden Magistrates, and know again,  
Your Sword was given to draw, and to be died  
In guilty blood; not to be laid aside,  
At the request of friends, or for base fear,  
Lest when your honour's ended with the year,  
Ye may be baffled: 'tis not enough that you  
Find, bread be weight; or that the weights be true:  
'tis not enough, that every foul disorder  
Must be referred to your more wise Recorder:  
The charge is given to you: You must return  
A fair account; or else, the Land must mourn:  
You keep your Swords too long a season in,  
And God strikes us, because you strike not sin:  
YE are too remiss, and want a Resolution:  
Good Laws lie dead, for lack of execution:  
An Oath is grown so bold, that it will laugh  
The easy Act, to scorn: Nay, we can quaff  
And reel with privilege: and we can trample  
Upon our shame shrunk cloaks, by your example:  
You are too dull: Too great offences pass  
Untouched; God loves no service from the Ass;  
Rouse up; O use the Spur, & spare the Bridle;  
God strikes, because your Swords, and You are idle;  
Grant, Lord, that every one may mend a fault;  
And than our Magistrates may stand for nought.     

SECT. 17.  
ARGUMENT.  

The faithless men of juda went  
To make him subject to their bands:  
They bound him by his own consent,  
And brought him prisoner to their hands.   

SO said: The men of judah (whose base fear  
Taught them to open an obedient ear  
To their revengeful and unjust request)  
Accept the treacherous motion, and addressed  
Their slavish thoughts, to put in execution  
The subject of their servile resolution:  
With that, three thousand of their ablest men  
Are soon employed; To the fierce Lion's den  
They come, (yet daring not approach too near)  
And sent this louder language to his ear;   

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,  
Why hast thou thus betrayed us to the hand  
Of the cursed Philistines? Thou knowst our Land  
Does owe itself to thee; There's none can claim  
So great an interest in our hearts: Thy name,  
Thy highly honoured name, for ever, bears  
A welcome Accent in our joyful ears;  
But now the times are dangerous, and a band  
Of proud Philistians quarter in our land;  
And; for thy sake, the tyranny of their tongues  
Hath newly threatened to revenge thy wrongs  
Upon our peaceful lives: Their lips have vowed  
And sworn to salve their injuries with our blood;  
Their jealous fury hollows in our ears,  
They'll plague our land, as thou hast plagued theirs,  
If we refuse to do 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, do;  
We must; or lose our lands, and our lifes too;  
Were but our lives in hazard, or if none  
Should feel the smart of death, but we alone,  
we'd turn thy Martyrs, rather than obey'm,  
we'd dye with Samson sooner than betray'm;  
But we have wives, and children, that would be  
The subjects of their rage, as well as we:  
Wherefore, submit thy person, and fulfil  
What we desire so much against our will:  
Alas, our griefs in equal poisure lie;  
Yield, and thou diest: Yield not, and we must dye:  
Whereto, sad Samson, whose fair thoughts did guide  
His lips to fairer language, thus replied;   

Ye men of judah, what distrustful thought  
Of single Samsons violence hath brought  
So great a strength, as if you meant t'o'erthrow  
Some mighty Monarch, or surprise a Foe!  
Tour easy errand might as well been done  
By two or three, or by the lips of one;  
The meanest child of holy Israel's seed  
Might conquered Samson, with a bruised reed:  
Alas, the boldness of your welcome words  
Need no protection of these staves and Swords:  
Brethren; the intention of my coming hither  
Was not to wrong you, or deprive you, either  
Of lives, or goods, or of your poorest due;  
Myself is cheaper to myself, than you;  
My coming is on a more fair design,  
I come to crush your tyrannous foes, and mine,  
I come to free your country, and recall  
Your servile shoulders from the slavish thrall  
Of the proud Philistines; and, with this hand,  
To make you freemen in your promised Land;  
But you are come to bind me, and betray  
Your faith full Champion to those hands, that lay  
Perpetual burdens on, which daily vex  
Your galled shoulders, and your servile necks:  
The wrongs these cursed Philistines have done  
My simple innocence, have quite outrun  
My easy patience: If my arm may right  
My too much injured 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 bind me: I submit;  
I yield; And if my bondage will acquit  
Your new born fears, 'tis well: But they that do  
Attempt to ruin me, will ransack you:  
First, you shall firmly ' engage your plighted troth,  
By the acceptance of a sacred oath,  
That, when I shall be prisoner 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 jacob cease to bless  
The tribe of judah, with a fair success,  
In aught they put their cursed hand unto,  
And raze their seed, If we attempt to do  
Bound Samson violence; And if this curse  
Be not sufficient, heaven contrive a worse:  
With that, the willing prisoner joined his hands,  
To be subjected to their stronger bands:  
With treble twisted cords, that never tried  
The twitch of strength, their busy 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 Pearl is hidden in this Field,  
Whose orient lustre, and perfections yield  
So great a treasure, that the Eastern Kings,  
With all the wealth, their colder Climate brings,  
Near saw the like: It is a pearl whose glory  
Is the diviner subject of a Story,  
Penned by an Angel's quill; not understood  
By the too dull con ceitof flesh and blood!  
Unkind judeans, what have you presented  
Before our eyes? O, what have you attented!  
He that was borne on purpose, to release  
His life, for yours; to bring your Nation peace;  
To turn your mournings into joyful Songs;  
To fight your Battles; To revenge your wrongs;  
Even him, alas, your cursed hands have made  
This day your prisoner; Him have you betrayed  
To death: O; he whose sinewy arm had power  
To crush you all to nothing, and to shower  
Down strokes, like thunderbolts, whose blasting breath,  
Might, in a moment, puffed you all to death,  
And made ye fall before his frowning brow,  
See, how he goes away, betrayed by you!   

Thou great Redeemer of the world! Whose blood  
Hath power to save more worlds, than Noah's flood  
Destroyed bodies; thou, O thou that art  
The Samson of our souls, How can the heart  
Of man give thanks enough, that does not know  
How much his death-redeemed soul does owe  
To thy dear merits? We can apprehend  
No more than flesh and blood 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 pain  
Thou bought us from, not can our hearts attain  
Those joys that thou hast purchased in our name,  
Nor yet the price, thou paidst: Our thoughts are lame,  
And crazed; Alas, things mortal have no might,  
No means to comprehend an Infinite:  
We can behold thee cradled in a Manger,  
In a poor Stable: We can see the danger  
The Tetrarches fury made thee subject to;  
We can conceive thy poverty; We know  
Thy blessed hands (that might been freed) were bound;  
We know, alas, thy bleeding brows were crowned  
With prickling thorn; Thy body torn with whips;  
Thy palms impeirced with ragged nails; Thy lips  
Saluted with a Traitors kiss; Thy brows  
Sweeting forth blood: Thy oftrepeated blows;  
Thy fastening to the cross; Thy shameful death;  
These outward tortures all come underneath  
Our dull conceits: But, what thy blessed soul  
(That bore the burden of our guilt, and Scroll  
Of all our sins, and horrid pains of Hell)  
O, what that soul endured, what soul can tell!     

SECT. 18.  
ARGUMENT.  

He breaks their bands; And with a Bone,  
A thousand Philistians he slew:  
He thirsted, fainted; made his moan  
To heaven: He drinks, His spirits renew.   

THus when the glad Philistians had obtained  
The sum of all their hopes, they entertained  
The welcome prisoner with a greater noise  
Of triumph then the greatness of their joys  
Required: Some, with sudden death, would greet  
The new come Guest; whilst others, more discreet,  
With lingering pains, and tortures more exact,  
Would force him to discover, in the Fact,  
Who his Abettors were: others gainsaid  
That course, for fear a rescue may be made:  
Some cry, 'tis fittest, that th' offender bleed  
There, where his cursed hands had done the deed:  
Others cried, No, where Fortune hath consigned him,  
Wee'lk: H him: Best; to kill him, where we find him:  
Thus variously they spent their doubtful breath,  
At last, they all agreed on sudden death;  
There's no contention now, but only who  
Shall strike the first, or give the speeding blow:  
Have ye beheld a single thread of flax,  
Touched by the fire, how the fire cracks  
With ease, and parts the slender twine in sunder,  
Even so, as the first arm began to thunder  
Upon the Prisoners' life, he burst the bands  
From his strong wrists, and freed his loosened hands;  
He stooped; from off the blood-expecting grass,  
He snatched the crooked jawbone of an Ass;  
Wherewith, his fury dealt such downright blows.  
So oft redoubled, that it overthrows  
Man after man; And being ringed about  
With the distracted, and amazed rout  
Of rude Philistians, turned his body round,  
And in a circle dings them to the ground:  
Each blow had proof; for, where the jawbone mist,  
The furious Champion wounded with his fist:  
Betwixt them both, his fury did uncase  
A thousand souls, which, in that fatal place,  
Had left their ruined carkeises, to feast  
The slesh-devouring fowl, and ravenous beast:  
With that, the Conqueror, that now had fed  
And surfeited his eye upon the dead  
His hand had slain, sat down; and, having flung  
His purple weapon by, triumphed, and sung;  
SAmson rejoice: Be filled with mirth;  
Let all judaea know,  
And tell the Princes of the earth  
How strong an arm hast thou:  
How has thy dead enriched the land,  
And purpled o'er the grass,  
That hadst no weapon in thy hand,  
But the jawbone of an Ass!  
How does thy strength, and high renown  
The glory of men surpass!  
Thine arm has struck a thousand down, with the jawbone of an Ass:  
Let Samsons glorious name endure,  
Till time shall render One,  
Whose greater glory shall obscure  
The Glory thou hast won.  
His Song being ended, rising from the place  
Whereon he lay, he turned his ruthless face  
Upon those heaps his direful hand had made,  
And opening of his thirsty lips, he said:   

Great God of Conquest, thou by whose command  
This heart received courage, and this hand  
Strength, to revenge thy quarrels, and fulfil  
The secret motion of thy sacred will;  
What, shall thy Champion perish now with thirst?  
Thou know'st, I have done nothing, but what first  
Was warranted by thy command: T was thou  
That gave my spirit boldness, and my brow  
A resolution: This mine arm did do  
No more, than what thou didst enjoin it to:  
And shall I dye for thirst? O thou that saved  
Me from the Lion's rage, that would have raved  
Upon my life: by whom I have subdued  
Thy cursed enemies, and have imbrued  
My heaven-commanded hands, in a springtide  
Of guilty blood; Lord, shall I be denied  
A draught of cooling water, to allay  
The tyranny of my thirst? ay, that this day  
Have laboured in thy Vineyard; rooted out  
So many weeds, whose losty crests did sprout  
Above thy trodden Vines; what, shall I dye  
For want of water, thou the Fountain by?  
I know that thou wert here, for hadst thou not  
Supplied my hand with strength, I ne'er had got  
So strange a victory: Hath thy servant taken  
Thy work in hand, and is he now forsaken?  
Hast thou not promised that my strengthened hand  
Shall scourge thy Foemen, and secure thy Land  
From slavish bondage? will that arm of thine  
Make me their slave, whom thou hast promised, mine?  
Bow down thy ear, and hear my needful cry;  
O, quench my thirst, great God, or else I die:  
With that, the jaw, wherewith his arm had laid  
So many sleeping in the dust, obeyed  
The voice of God, and cast a tooth, from whence  
A sudden spring arose, whose confluence  
Of crystal waters, plenteously disbursed  
Their precious streams; and so allayed his thirst.   

MEDITAT. 18.  

THe jawbone of an Ass? How poor a thing  
God makes his powerful instrument to bring  
Some honour to his name, and to advance  
His greater glory! Came this bone, by chance,  
To Samsons hand? Or could the Army go  
No further? but must needs expect a foe  
Just where his weapon of destruction lay?  
Was there no fitter place, for them to stay,  
But even just there? How small a thing 'thad been  
(If they had been so provident) to win  
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 blood?   

Where Heaven doth please to ruin, humane wit  
Must fail, and deeper policy must submit:  
There, wisdom must be fooled, and strength of brain  
Must work against itself, or work in vain:  
The track, that seems most likely, often leads  
To death; and where security most pleads,  
There, dangers, in their fairest shapes, appear,  
And give us not so great a help, as fear:  
The things we least suspect, are often they,  
That most effect our ruin, and betray:  
Who would have thought, the silly Ass' bone,  
Not worth the spurning, should have overthrown  
So stout a Band? Heaven, often times, thinks best,  
To overcome the greatest with the least:  
He gains most glory in things, that are most sleight,  
And wins, in honour, what they want in might:  
Who would have thought, that Samsons deadly thirst  
Should have been quenched with waters, that did burst  
And flow from that dry bone? Who would not think,  
The thirsty Conqueror, for want of drink,  
Should first have died? What mad man could presume  
So dry a tooth should yield so great a Rheum?  
God does not work like Man; nor is he tied  
To outward means: His pleasure is his Guide,  
Not Reason: He, that is the God of Nature,  
Can work against it: He that is Creator  
Of all things, can dispose them, to attend  
His will, forgetting their created end:  
He, 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  
Show forth thy power, and please to alter mine:  
My sins are open, but my sorrow's hid;  
I cannot drench my couch, as David did;  
My brains are marble, and my heart is stone:  
O strike mine eyes, as thou didst strike that bone.     

SECT. 19  
ARGUMENT.  

He lodges with a harlot: wait  
Is laid, and guards are pitched about:  
He bears away the City-gate  
Upon his shoulders, and goes out.   

THus when victorious Samson had unlived  
This host of armed men; and had revived  
His fainting spirits, and refreshed his tongue  
With those sweet crystal streams, that lately sprung  
From his neglected weapon, he arose  
(Secured from the tyranny of his Foes  
By his Heaven-borrowed strength) and boldly came  
To a Philistian City, known by th' name  
Of Azza; where, as he was passing by,  
The careless Champion cast his wand'ring eye  
Upon a face, whose beauty did invite  
His wanton heart to wonder and delight:  
Her curious hair was crisped: Her naked breast  
Was white as Ivory, and fairly dressed  
With costly jewels: In her glorious face,  
Nature was hidden, and dissembled grace  
Damaskt her rosy cheeks: Her eyes did spark,  
At every glance, like Diamonds in the dark;  
Bold was her brow; whose frown was but a foil  
To glorify her better-pleasing smile;  
Her pace was careless, seeming to discover  
The passions of a discontented Lover:  
Sometime, her oped Casement gives her eye  
A twinkling passage to the passer by;  
And, when her fickle fancy had given o'er  
That place, she comes, and wantoness at the door;  
There Samson viewed her, and his steps could find  
No further ground; but (guided by his mind)  
Cast Anchor there: Have thy observing eyes  
Ere marked the Spider's garb, How close she lies  
Within her curious web; And by and by,  
How quick she hasts to her entangled Fly;  
And, whispering poison in his murmring ears,  
At last, she tugs her silent guest, and bears  
His hampered body to the inner room  
Of her obscure and solitary Home;  
Even so this snaring beauty entertains  
Our eye-led Samson, tamperd with the chains  
Of her imperious eyes; and he, that no man  
Could conquer; now lies conquered by a woman.  
Fair was his welcome, and as fairly ' expressed  
By her delicious language, which professed  
No less affection, than so sweet a Friend,  
Could, with her best expressions, recommend:  
Into her glorious chamber she directs  
Her welcome guest, and with her fair respects  
She entertains him; with a bounteous kiss,  
She gives him earnest of a greater bliss;  
And with a brazen countenance, she broke  
The way to her unchaste desires, and spoke;   

Mirror of mankind, thou selected flower  
Of Love's fair knot, welcome to Flora's bowers;  
Cheer up, my Love; and look upon these eyes,  
Wherein my beauty, and thy picture lies;  
Come, take me prisoner, in thy folded arms;  
And boldly strike up sprightly loves alarms  
Upon these ruby lips, and let us try  
The sweets of love: Here's none but thee and I:  
My beds are softest down, and purest lawn  
My sheets; My vallents, and my curtains drawn  
In gold and silks of curious die: Behold,  
My Cover are of Tap stry, enriched with gold;  
Come, come, and let us take our fill of pleasure;  
My husband's absence lends me dainty leisure  
To give thee welcome: Come, let's spend the night  
In sweet enjoyment of unknown delight.  
Her words prevailed: And, being both undressed,  
Together went to their defiled rest:  
By this, the news of Samsons being there  
Possessed the City, and filled every ear:  
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  
Betray him to his sudden death; and so,  
Revenge their Kingdom's ruin at a blow:  
But lustful Samson (whose distrustful ears  
Kept open house) was now possessed with fears:  
He hears a whispering; and the trampling feet  
Of people passing in the silent street;  
He, whom undaunted courage lately made  
A glorious Conqueror, is now afraid;  
His conscious heart is smitten with his sin;  
He cannot choose but fear, and fear again:  
He fears; and now the terrible alarms  
Of sin do call him from th' unlawful arms  
And lips of his luxurious Concubine;  
Bids him, arise from dalliance, and resign  
The usurpation of his lukewarm place  
To some new sinner, whose less dangerous case  
May lend more leisure to so foul a deed:  
Samson, with greater and unwonted speed  
Leaps from his want on bed; his fears do press  
More haste, to clothe; then lust did, to undress:  
He makes no tarryance; but, with winged haste,  
Bestrides the streets; and, to the gates, he passed,  
And through the armed troops, he makes his way;  
Bears gates, and bars, and pillars all away;  
So scaped the rage of the Philistian Band,  
That still must owe his ruin, to their land.   

MEDITAT. 19  

HOw weak, at strongest, is poor flesh and blood!  
Samson, the greatness of whose power withstood  
A little world of armed men, with death,  
Must now be foiled with a woman's breath:  
The mother, sometimes, lets her infant fall,  
To make it hold the surer by the wall:  
God lets his servant, often, go amiss,  
That he may turn, and see how weak 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 blood was able to inherit,  
Must have a fall, to exercise his fears,  
And make him drown his restless Couch with Tears:  
Wise Solomon, within whose heart was planted  
The fruitful stocks of heavenly Wisdom, wanted  
Not that, whereby his weakness understood  
The perfect vanity of flesh and blood:  
Whose hand seemed prodigal of his isaack's life,  
He durst not trust God's providence with his wife:  
The righteous Lot had slidings: Holy Paul  
He had his prick; and Peter had his fall:  
The sacred Bride, in whose fair face remains  
The greatest earthly beauty, hath her stains:  
If man were perfect, and entirely good,  
He were not Man: He were not flesh and blood:  
Or should he never fall, he would, at length,  
Not see his weakness, and presume in strength:  
Ere children know the sharpness of the Edge,  
They think, their fingers have a privilege  
Against a wound; but, having felt the knife,  
A bleeding finger, sometime, saves a life:   

Lord, we are children; and our sharpe-edged knives,  
Together with our blood, le's out our lives;  
Alas, if we but draw them from the sheath,  
They cut our fingers, and they bleed to death.   

Thou great Chirurgeon of a bleeding soul,  
Whose sovereign balm, is able to make whole  
The deepest wound, Thy sacred salve is sure;  
We cannot bleed so fast, as thou canst cure:  
Heale thou our wounds; that, having salved the sore,  
Our hearts may fear, and learn to sin no more;  
And let our hands be strangers to those knives,  
That wound not fingers only; but our lives.     


Of your true servant; who, would never rest,  
Till she had done the deed: But know, my Lords,  
If the poor frailty of a woman's words  
May shake so great a power, and prevail,  
My best advised endeavours shall not fail  
To be employed: I'll make a sudden trial;  
And quickly speed, or find a foul denial:   

MEDITAT. 20.  

INsatiate Samson! Could not Azza smother  
Thy flaming lust; but must thou find another?  
Is th' old grown stale? And seeks thou for a new?  
Alas, where Two's too many, Three's too few:  
Man's soul is infinite, and never tires  
In the extension of her own desires:  
The sprightly nature of his active mind  
Aims still at further; Will not be confined  
To th' poor dimensions of flesh and blood;  
Something it still desires; Covets good;  
Would fain be happy, in the sweet enjoyment  
Of what it prosecutes, with the employment  
Of best endeavours; but it cannot find  
So great a good, but something's still behind:  
It, first, propounds; applauds; desires; endeavours;  
At last, enjoys; but (like to men, in Fevers,  
Who fancy always those things that are worst)  
The more it drinks, the more it is a thirst:  
The fruitful earth (whose nature is the worse  
For sin; with man partaker in the curse)  
Aims at perfection; and would fain bring forth  
(As first it did) things of the greatest worth;  
Her colder womb endeavours (as of old)  
To ripen all her Metals, unto Gold;  
O, but that sic-procured curse hath child  
The heat of pregnant Nature, and hath filled  
Her barren seed, with coldness, which does lurk  
In her faint womb, that her more perfect work  
Is hindered; and, for want of heat, brings forth  
Imperfect metals, of a base worth:  
Even so, the soul of Man, in her first state,  
Received a power, and a will to that  
Which was most pure, and good; but, since the loss  
Of that fair freedom, only trades in dross;  
Aims she at Wealth? Alas, her proud desire  
Strives for the best; but failing to mount higher  
Than earth, her error grapples, and takes hold  
On that, which earth can only give her, Gold  
Aims 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:  
Aims she at Pleasure? Her desires extend  
To lasting joys, whose pleasures have no end;  
But, wanting wings, she grovells on the Dust,  
And, there, she lights upon a carnal Lust:  
Yet ne'ertheless, th' aspiring Soul desires  
A perfect good; but, wanting those sweet sires,  
Whose heat should perfect her unrip'ned will,  
Cleaves to th' apparent Good, which Good is ill;  
Whose sweet enjoyment, being far unable  
To give a satisfaction answerable  
To her unbounded wishes, leaves a thirst  
Of reenjoyment, greater than the first.   

Lord; When our fruitless fallows are grown cold,  
And out of heart, we can enrich the mould  
With a new heat; we can restore again  
Her weakened soil; and make it apt, for grain;  
And wilt thou suffer our faint souls, to lie  
Thus unmanured, that is thy Husbandry?  
They bear no other bulk, but idle weeds,  
Alas, they have no heart, no heat; Thy seeds  
Are cast away, until thou please t' inspire  
New strength, and quench them with thy sacred fire:  
Stir thou my Fallows; and every my mould;  
And they shall bring thee ' increase, a hundred fold.     

SECT. 21.  
ARGUMENT.  

False Delila accosts her Lover:  
Her lips endeavour to entice  
His gentle nature to discover  
His strength: Samson deceives her thrice.   

Soon as occasion lent our Champion's ear  
To Delila, which could not choose but hear,  
If Delila but whispered; she, whose wiles  
Were neatly baited, with her simple smiles,  
Accosted Samson; Her alluring hand  
Sometimes would struck his Temples; sometime, spanned  
His brawny arm; Sometimes, would gently gripe  
His sinewy wrist; Another while, would wipe  
His sweeting brows; Her wanton fingers played,  
Sometimes, with his fair locks; sometimes, would brayed  
His long dishevelled hair; her eyes, one while,  
Would steal a glance upon his eyes, and smile;  
And, then, 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 fair prison of her lips, she spoke;   

How poor a Gristle is this arm of mine!  
Me thinks, 'tis nothing, in respect of thine;  
Of having: Wealth will rouse thy heart less friends;  
Make thee a potent Master of thy Ends;  
'T will bring thee honour; make thy suits at Law  
Prosper at will; and keep thy Foes in awe:  
Art thou Ambitious? He will kindle fire,  
In thy proud thoughts, and make thy thoughts aspire;  
he'll come, and teach thy honour how to scorn  
Thy old acquaintance, whom thou hast outworn:  
he'll teach thee how to Lord it, and advance  
Thy servants fortunes, with thy Countenance:  
Wouldst thou enjoy the pleasures of the flesh?  
he'll bring thee wanton Ladies, to refresh  
Thy drooping soul: he'll teach thine eyes to wander;  
Instruct thee how to woo; he'll be thy Pander:  
he'll fill thy amorous soul with the sweet passion  
Of powerful Love: he'll give thee dispensation,  
To sin at pleasure; He will make thee Slave  
To thy own thoughts: he'll make thee beg and crave  
To be a drudge: he'll 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 poor day;  
How can it be expected, we have power  
To hold out Siege, one scruple of an hour:  
Our Arms are bound with too unequal bands;  
We cannot strive; We cannot lose our hands:   

Great Nazarite, awake; and look upon us:  
Make haste to help; The Philistines are on us.    

SECT. 22.  
ARGUMENT.  

She sues again: Samson replies  
The very truth: Her lips betray him:  
They bind him; They put out his eyes,  
And to the prison they convey him.   

With that; the wanton, whose distrustful eye,  
Was fixed upon reward, made this reply;  
Had the denial of my poor request  
Proceeded from th' inexorable breast  
Of one, whose open hatred sought t' endanger  
My haunted life; Or had it been a stranger,  
That wanted so much nature, to deny  
The doing of a common courtesy;  
Nay, had it been a friend, that had deceived me,  
An ordinary friend, It ne'er had grieved me:  
But thou, even thou my bosom friend, that art  
The only joy of my deceived heart;  
Nay thou, whose hony-dropping lips soloften  
Did plead thy undissembled love, and soften  
My dear affection, which could never yield  
To easier terms; by thee, to be beguiled?  
How often hast thou mocked my slender suit  
With forged falsehoods? Hadst thou but been mute,  
I ne'er had hoped: But being fairly led  
Towards my prompt desires, which were fed  
With my false hopes, and thy falsehearted tongue,  
And then beguiled? I hold it as a wrong:  
How canst thou say thou lov'st me? How can I  
Think but thou hat'st me, when thy lips deny  
So poor a Suit? Alas, my fond desire  
Had slacked, had not denial blown the fire:  
Grant then at last, and let thy open breast  
Show that thou lov'st me ', and grant my fair request:  
Speak, or speak not, thy Delila shall give over  
To urge; her lips shall never urge thee more:  
To whom, the yielding lover thus betrayed  
His heart, being tortured unto death, and said;   

My dear; my Delila; I cannot stand  
Against so sweet a pleader; In thy hand  
I here entrust, and to thy breast impart  
Thy Samsons life, and secrets of his heart;  
Know then my Delila, that I was borne  
A Nazarite; These locks were never shorn;  
No Raisor, yet, came ere upon my crown;  
There lies my strength; with them, my strength is gone:  
Were they but shaved, my Delila; O, then,  
Thy Samson should be weak as other men;   

No sooner had he spoken, but he spread  
His body on the floor, his drowsy head  
He pillowed on her lap; until, at last,  
He fell into a sleep; and, being fast,  
She clipped his locks from off his careless head.  
And beckoning the Philistians in, she said;  
Samson awake; Take strength and courage on thee;  
Samson arise; The Philistines are on thee:  
Even as a Dove, whose wings are clipped, for flying,  
Flutters her idle stumps; and still, relying  
Upon her wont refuge, strives in vain,  
To quit her life from danger, and attain  
The freedom of her ayre-dividing plumes;  
She struggles often, and she oft presumes  
To take the sanctuary of the open fields;  
But, finding that her hopes are vain, she yields:  
Even so poor Samson (frighted at the sound,  
That roused him from his rest) forsook the ground;  
Perceiving the Philistians there at hand,  
To take him prisoner, he began to stand  
Upon his wont Guard: His threatening breath  
Brings forth the prologue to their following death:  
He roused himself; and, like a Lion, shook  
His drowsy limbs; and with a cloudy look,  
(Foretelling boisterous, and tempestuous weather)  
Defied each one, defied them all together:  
Now, when he came to grapple, he upheaved  
His mighty hand; but, now (alas, bereaved  
Of wont power) that confounding arm,  
(That could no less than murder) did no harm;  
Blow was exchanged, for blow; and wound for wound:  
He, that, of late, disdained to give ground,  
Flies back apace; who, lately, stained the field  
With conquered blood, does now begin to yield;  
He, that, of late, broke twisted Ropes in twain,  
Is bound with Pack thread; He, that did disdain  
To fear the power of an Armed Band,  
Can now walk prisoner in a single hand:  
Thus have the treacherous Philistines betrayed  
Poor captive Samson: Samson now obeyed:  
Those glowing eyes, that whittled death about,  
Where ere they viewed, their cursed hands put out;  
They led him prisoner, and conveyed him down  
To strong-walled Azza (that Philistian town,  
Whose gates his shoulders lately bore away)  
There, in the common Prison, did they lay  
Distressed Samson, who obtained no meat,  
But what he purchased with his painful sweat;  
For, every day, they urged him to fulfil  
His twelve hour's task, at the laborious Mill;  
And, when his wasted strength began to tire,  
They'd quicken his bare sides, with whips of Wire:  
Filled was the town with joy, and Triumph: All,  
From the high-Prince, to th' Cobbler, on the stall,  
Kept holiday, whilst every voice became  
Hoarse, as the Trump of newes-divulgeing fame;  
All tongues were filled with shouts: And every care  
Was grown impatient of the whisperer;  
So general was their Triumph, their Applause,  
That children shouted, ere they knew a cause:  
The better sort betook them to their knees;  
Dagon must worshipped be: Dagon, that frees  
Both Sea, and Land, Dagon, that did subdue  
Our common foe: 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 redeemed our land:  
We call to Dagon; and our Dagon hears;  
Our groans are come to holy Dagons' ears;  
To Dagon, all renown and Glory be;  
Where is there such another God as He?   

MEDITAT. 22.  

HOw is our story changed? O, more than strange  
Effects of so small time! O, sudden change;  
Is this that holy Nazarite, for whom  
Heaven showed a Miracle, on the barren womb?  
Is this that holy Thing, again 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 (strengthened by heaven's hand)  
Was borne a Champion, to redeem the Land?  
Is this the man, whose courage did contest  
With a fierce Lion, grappling breast to breast;  
And in a twinkling, tore him quite in sunder?  
Is this that Conqueror whose Arm did thunder  
Upon the men of Askalon, the power  
Of whose bend fist, slew thirty in an hour?  
Is this that daring Conqueror, whose hand  
Thrashed the proud Philistines, in their wasted land?  
And was this He, that with the help of none,  
Destroyed a thousand with a silly Bone?  
Or He, whose wrists, being bound together, did  
Break Cordes like flax, and double Ropes like third?  
Is this the man whose hands unhinged those Gates,  
And barethem thence, with pillars, bars, & Grates?  
And is he turned a Mill-horse now? and blind?  
Must this great Conqueror be forced to grind  
For bread and water? Must this Hero spend  
His latter times in drudgery? Must he end  
His weary days in darkness? Must his higher,  
Be knotted cords, and torturing whips of wire?  
Where heaven withdraws, the creatures power shakes;  
What misery's wanting there, where God for sakes?  
Had Samson not abused his borrowed power,  
Samson, had still, remained a Conqueror:  
The Philistines did act his part; No doubt,  
His eyes offended, and they plucked them out:  
Heaven will be just: He punishes a sin,  
Oft, in the member, that he finds it in:  
When faithless Zacharias did become  
Too curious, his lips were strucken dumb:  
Samson whose lustful view did overprize  
Unlawful beautye's punished in his eyes;  
Those flaming eyes seduced his wanton mind  
To act a sin; Those eyes are stricken blind;  
The beauty he invaded, did invade him,  
And that fair tongue, that blessed him so, betrayed him:  
That strength, intemperate lust employed so ill,  
Is now a driving the laborious Mill;  
Those naked sides, so pleased with lusts desire,  
Are, now, as naked, lashed 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  
Until they join, and make a Body ' of sin:  
Make sin my burden; Let it never please me;  
And thou hast promised, when I come, to ease me,     

SECT. 23.  
ARGUMENT.  

They make a feast. And then to crown  
Their mirth, blind Samson is brought thither:  
He pulls the mighty Pillars down;  
The Building falls: All slain together,   

THus when the vulgar Triumph (which does last  
But seldom, longer than the news) was past,  
And Dagons holy Altars had surceased  
To breathe their idle fumes: they called a feast,  
A common Feast; whose bounty did bewray  
A common joy, to gratulate the day;  
Whereto, the Princes, under whose command  
Each province was, in their divided land;  
Whereto, the Lords, Leiutenants, and all those,  
To whom the supreme Rulers did repose  
An under-trust; whereto, the better sort  
Ofgentry, and of Commons did resort,  
With mirth, and jolly triumph, to allay  
Their sorrows, and to solemnize the day;  
Into the common Hall they come: The Hall  
Was large and fair; Her arched roof was all  
Builded with massy stone, and over laid  
With ponderous Lead; Two sturdy Pillars stayed  
Her mighty Rafters up; whereon, relied  
The weighty burden of her lofty pride.  
When lusty diet, and the frolic cup  
Had roused and raised their quickened spirits up,  
And brave triumphing Bacchus had displayed  
His conquering colours, in their cheeks, they said;   

Call Samson forth; He must not work to day;  
'tis a boon feast; we'll give him leave to play;  
Does he grind bravely? Does our Millhorse sweat?  
Let him lack nothing; What he wants in meat,  
Supply in lashes; He is strong and stout,  
And, with his breath can drive the Mill about:  
He works too hard, we fear: Go down and free him;  
Say, that his Mistress, Delila would see him:  
The sight of him will take our hours short,  
Go fetch him then, to make our Honour's sport:  
Bid him provide some Riddles; Let him bring  
Some songs of Triumph: He that's blind, may sing  
With better boldness: Bid him never doubt  
To please: What matter, though his eyes be out?  
'tis no dishonour, that he cannot see;  
Tell him, the God of love's as blind, as he:  
With that they brought poor Samson to the Hall;  
And as he passed, he gtopes to find the wall;  
His pace was slow; His feet were lifted high;  
Each tongue would taunt him; Every scornful eye  
Was filled with laughter; Some would cry aloud,  
He walks in state: His Lordship is grown proud:  
Some bid his Honour, Hail; whilst others cast  
Reproachful terms upon him; as he passed;  
Some would salute him fairly, and embrace  
His wounded sides; then spit upon his face:  
Others would cry; For shame forbear t' abuse  
The high and great Redeemer of the jews:  
Some gibe and flout him with their taunts and quips,  
Whilst others flirt him on the starting lips:  
With that; poor Samson, whose abundant grief,  
Not finding hopes of comfort, or relief,  
Resolved for patience: Turning round, he made  
Some shift to feel his Keeper out, and said;   

Good Sir: my painful labour in the Mill  
Hath made me bold (although against my will)  
To crave some little rest; If you will please  
To let the Pillour but afford some ease  
To my worn limbs, your mercy should relieve  
A soul, that has no more, but thanks, to give:  
The keeper yielded: (Now the Hall was filled  
With Princes, and their People, that beheld  
Abused Samson; whilst the Roof retained  
A leash of thousands more, whose eyes were chained  
To this sad Object, with a full delight,  
To see this flesh-and-blood-relenting sight;  
With that, the prisoner turned himself and prayed  
So soft, that none but heaven could hear, and said;   

My God, my God: Although my sins do cry  
For greater vengeance, yet thy gracious eye  
Is full of mercy; O, remember now  
The gentle promise and that sacred vow  
Thou mad'st to faithful Abram, and his seed,  
O, hear my wounded soul, that has less need  
Of life, than mercy: Let thy tender ear  
Make good thy plenteous promise now, and hear;  
See, how thy cursed enemies prevail  
Above my strength; Behold, how poor and frail  
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 only mine:  
I am thy Champion, Lord; It is not me  
They strike at; Through my sides, they thrust at thee:  
Against thy Glory 'tis, their Malice lies;  
They aimed at that, when they put out these eyes:  
Alas their blood bedabbled hands would fly  
On thee, wert thou but clothed in flesh, as I:  
Revenge thy wrongs, great God; O let thy hand  
Redeem thy suffering honour, and this land:  
Lend me thy power; Renew my wasted strength,  
That I may fight thy battles; and, at length,  
Rescue thy Glory; that my hands may do  
That faithful service, they were borne unto:  
Lend me thy power, that I may restore  
Thy loss, and I will never urge thee more:  
Thus having ended, both his arms he laid,  
Upon the pillours of the Hall; and said;  
Thus, with the Philistines, I resign my breath;  
Andlet my God find Glory in my death:  
And having spoke, his yielding body strained  
Upon those Marble pillar, that sustained  
The ponderous Roof; They cracked; and, with their fall,  
Down fell the Battlements, and Roof, and all;  
And, with their ruins, slaughtered at a blow,  
The whole Assembly; They, that were below,  
Received their sudden deaths from those that fell  
From off the top; whilst none was loft, to tell  
The horrid shrieks, that filled the spacious Hall,  
Whose ruins were impartial, and slew all:  
They fell; and, with an unexpected blow,  
Gave every one his death, and Burial too:   

Thus died our Samson; whose brave death has won  
More honour, than his honoured life had done:  
Thus died our Conqueror; whose latest breath  
Was crowned with Conquest; triumphed over death:  
Thus died our Samson; whose last drop of blood  
Redeemed heavens glory, and his Kingdom's good:  
Thus died heaven's Champion, & the earth's bright Glory;  
The heavenly subject of this sacred story:  
And thus th' impartial hand of death that gathers  
All to the Grave, reposed him with his fathers;  
Whose name shall flourish, and be still in prime,  
In spite of ruin, or the teeth of Time;  
Whose fame shall last, till heaven shall please to free  
This Earth from Sin, and Time shall cease to be.   

MEDITAT. 23.  

Wages of sin, is death. The day must come,  
Wherein, the equal hand of death must sum  
The several Items of man's fading glory,  
Into the easy Totall of one Story:  
The brows that sweat for kingdoms and renown,  
To glorify their Temples with a Crown;  
At length, grow cold, and leave their honoured name  
To flourish in th' uncertain blast of fame:  
This is the height that glorious mortals can  
Attain; This is the highest pitch of Man:  
The quilted Quarters of the Earth's great Ball,  
Whose unconfined limits were too small  
For his extreme Ambition, to deserve,  
Six foot of length, and three of breadth must serve:  
This is the highest pitch that Man can fly;  
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 increase  
Crown him with plenty; and, his days with peace?  
It is a right hand blessing; But supply  
Of wealth cannot secure him; He must die:   

Lives he in Pleasure? Dóes perpetual mirth  
Lend him a little Heaven upon his earth?  
Meets he no sullen care; no sudden loss  
To cool his joys? Breathes he without a cross?  
Wants he no pleasure, that his want on eye  
Can crave, or hope from fortune? He must dye:  
Lives he in Honour? Hath his fair desert  
Obtained the freedom of his Prince's heart?  
Or may his more familiar hands disburse  
His liberal favours, from the royal purse?  
Alas, his Honour cannot soar too high,  
For palefaced death to follow: He must dye:   

Lives he a Conqueror? And doth heaven bless  
His heart with spirit; that spirit, with success;  
Success, with Glory; Glory, with a name,  
To live with the Eternity of Fame?  
The progress of his lasting fame may vie  
With time; But yet the Conqueror must dye:   

Great, and good God: Thou Lord of life and death;  
In whom, the Creature, hath his being; breath;  
Teach me to under prize this life, and I  
Shall find my loss the easier, when I dye;  
So raise my feeble thoughts, and dull desire,  
That when these vain and weary days expire,  
I may discard my flesh, with joy, and quit  
My better part, of this false earth; and it  
Of some more sin; and, for this Transitory  
And tedious life, enjoy a life of Glory.     
The end.