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Samson. Cam'st thou for this, vain boaster, to

survey me, To descant on my strength, and give thy verdict ? Come nearer; part not hence so slight inform’d; But take good heed my hand survey not thee.

Harapha. O Baal-zebub! can my ears unus'd Hear these dishonours, and not render death? Samson. No man witholds thee, nothing from

thy hand
Fear I incurable; bring up thy van,
My heels are fetter'd, but my fist is free.
Harapha. This insolence other kind of answer

fits.
Samson. Go, baffled coward ! lest I run upon

thee
Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast,
And with one buffet lay thy structure low,
Or swing thee in the air, then dash thee down
To the hazard of thy brains and shatter'd sides.

Harapha. By Astaroth, ere long thou shalt lament These braveries, in irons loaden on thee. [Exit.] Chorus. His giantship is gone somewhat crest

fallen, Stalking with less unconscionable strides, And lower looks, but in a sultry chase.

Samson. I dread him not, nor all his giant-brood, Though Fame divulge him father of five sons, All of gigantick size, Goliah chief.

Chorus. He will directly to the lords, I fear,

And with malicious counsel stir them up
Some

way or other yet further to afflict thee. Samson. He must allege some cause, and offer'd

fight Will not dare mention, lest a question rise Whether he durst accept the offer or not; And, that he durst not, plain enough appear'd. Much more affliction than already felc They cannot well impose, nor I sustain; If they intend advantage of my labours, The work of many hands, which earns my keeping With no small profit daily to my owners. But come what will, my deadliest foe will prove My speediest friend, by death to rid me hence; The worst that he can give, to me the best. Yet so it may fall out, because their end Is hate, not help to me, it may with mine Draw their own ruin who attempt the deed.

Chorus. Oh how comely it is, and how reviving To the spirits of just men long oppress’d ! When God into the hands of their deliverer Puts invincible might To quell the mighty of the earth, the oppressour, The brute and boisterous force of violent men, Hardy and industrious to support Tyrannick power, but raging to pursue The righteous and all such as honour truth; He all their ammunition

!

And feats of war defeats,
With plain heroick magnitude of mind
And celestial vigour arm'd;
Their armouries and magazines contemns,
Renders them useless; while
With winged expedition,
Swift as the lightning glance he executes
His errand on the wicked, who, surpris'd,
Lose their defence, distracted and amaz'd.

But patience is more oft the exercise
Of saints, the trial of their fortitude,
Making them each his own deliverer,
And victor over all
That tyranny or fortune can inflict.
Either of these is in thy lot,
Samson, with might endued
Above the sons of men ; but sight bereav'd
May chance to number thee with those
Whom patience finally must crown.

This idol's day hath been to thee no day of rest,
Labouring thy mind
More than the working day thy hands,
And yet perhaps more trouble is behind,
For I descry this way
Some other tending; in his hand
A scepter or quaint staff he bears,
Comes on amain, speed in his look,
By his habit I discern him now

A publick officer, and now at hand;
His message will be short and voluble.

Enter OFFICER. Officer. Hebrews, the prisoner Samson here I seek. Chorus. His manacles remark him, there he sits.

Officer. Samson, to thee our lords thus bid me say; This day to Dagon is a solemn feast, With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and games : Thy strength they know surpassing human rate, And now some publick proof thereof require To honour this great feast and great assembly; Rise therefore with all speed, and come along, Where I will see thee hearten'd and fresh clad, To appear, as fits, before the illustrious lords. Samson. Thou know'st I am an Hebrew, there

fore tell them, Our Law forbids at their religious rites My presence ; for that cause I cannot come. Officer. This answer, be assur'd, will not content

them. Samson. Have they not sword-players, and every

sort Of gymnick artists, wrestlers, riders, runners, Juglers, and dancers, anticks, mummers, mimicks, But they must pick me out, with shackles tir'd, And over-labour'd at their publick mill, To make them sport with blind activity?

of

Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels
On my refulsal to distress me more,
Or make a game

my

calamities? Return the way thou cam'st, I will not come. Officer. Regard thyself; this will offend them

highly. Samson. Myself? my conscience, and internal

peace.

Can they think me so broken, so debas'd
With corporal servitude, that my mind ever
Will condescend to such absurd commands?
Although their drudge, to be their fool or jester,
And in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief
To show them feats, and play before their God,
The worst of all indignities, yet on me
Join'd with extreme contempt? I will not come.
Officer. My message was impos’d on me with

speed, Brooks no delay; is this thy resolution? Samson. So take it with what speed thy message

needs. Officer. I am sorry what this stoutness will produce.

[Exit.] Samson. Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow

indeed. Chorus. Consider, Samson ; matters now are

strain'd Up to the highth, whether to hold or break:

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