Useless, and thence ridiculous about him. And since his strength with eye-sight was not lost, Chor. Thy hopes are not ill founded nor seem vain In both which we, as next participate. Man. I know your friendly minds and-O what noise ! Mercy of Heav'n what hideous noise was that! Horribly loud unlike the former shout. Chor. Noise call you it or universal groan As if the whole inhabitation perish'd, Blood, death, and deathful deeds are in that noise, Man. Of ruin indeed methought I heard the noise, Oh it continues, they have slain my Son. Chor. Thy Son is rather slaying them, that outcry From slaughter of one foe could not ascend. Man. Some dismal accident it needs must be; What shall we do, stay here or run and see? Chor. Best keep together here, lest running thither We unawares run into dangers mouth. This evil on the Philistines is fall'n, From whom could else a general cry be heard? The sufferers then will scarce molest us here, From other hands we need not much to fear. He now be dealing dole among his foes, 1510 1520 1530 Man. That were a joy presumptuous to be thought. Chor. Yet God hath wrought things as incredible For his people of old; what hinders now? Man. He can I know, but doubt to think he will; Chor. Of good or bad so great, of bad the sooner; An Ebrew, as I guess, and of our Tribe. Mess. O whither shall I run, or which way flie The sight of this so horrid spectacle 1540 Which earst my eyes beheld and yet behold; But providence or instinct of nature seems, Man. The accident was loud, & here before thee Man. Tell us the sum, the circumstance defer. 1550 Man. Sad, but thou knowst to Israelites not saddest 1550 The desolation of a Hostile City. Mess. Feed on that first, there may in grief be surfet. Man. Relate by whom. Mess. By Samson. Man. That still lessens The sorrow, and converts it nigh to joy. Mess. Ah Manoa I refrain, too suddenly To utter what will come at last too soon; Lest evil tidings with too rude irruption Hitting thy aged ear should pierce too deep. Man. Suspense in news is torture, speak them out. Mess. Then take the worst in brief, Samson is dead. 1570 Man. The worst indeed, O all my hope's defeated To free him hence! but death who sets all free 1580 What glorious hand gave Samson his deaths wound? Mess. By his own hands. Man. Self-violence? what cause Man. O lastly over-strong against thy self! Mess. Occasions drew me early to this City, The building was a spacious Theatre Half round on two main Pillars vaulted high, The other side was op'n, where the throng On banks and scaffolds under Skie might stand; I among these aloof obscurely stood. The Feast and noon grew high, and Sacrifice Had fill'd thir hearts with mirth, high chear, & wine, Was Samson as a public servant brought, In thir state Livery clad; before him Pipes 1590 1600 1610 1620 To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still perform'd At length for intermission sake they led him He tugg'd, he shook, till down they came a Chor. O dearly-bought revenge, yet Not willingly, but tangl'd in the fold Semichor. While thir hearts were jocund and sublime, Then all thy life had slain before. Drunk with Idolatry, drunk with Wine, And fat regorg'd of Bulls and Goats, Among them he a spirit of phrenzie sent, And urg'd them on with mad desire To call in hast for thir destroyer; 1670 As thir own ruin on themselves to invite, Insensate left, or to sense reprobate, And with blindness internal struck. Semichor. But he though blind of sight, Despis'd and thought extinguish't quite, With inward eyes illuminated His fierie vertue rouz'd From under ashes into sudden flame, And as an ev'ning Dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts, And nests in order rang'd Of tame villatic Fowl; but as an Eagle His cloudless thunder bolted on thir heads. So vertue giv'n for lost, Deprest, and overthrown, as seem'd, Like that self-begott❜n bird In the Arabian woods embost, That no second knows nor third, And lay e're while a Holocaust, From out her ashie womb now teem'd Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most And though her body die, her fame survives, A secular bird ages of lives. Man. Come, come, no time for lamentation now, Nor much more cause, Samson hath quit himself 1690 1700 |