In confidence whereof I once again
Defy thee to a trial of mortal fight,
By combat to decide whose God is God,
Thine, or whom I with Israel's sons adore.
Harapha. Fair honour that thou dost thy God,
in trusting
He will accept thee to defend his cause,
A Murderer, a Revolter, and a Robben!
Samson. Tongue-doughty Giant, how dost thou
prove me these?
Harapha. Is not thy nation subject to our lords? Their magistrates confess'd it, when they took thee As a league-breaker, and deliver❜d bound
Into our hands: for hadst thou not committed
Notorious murder on those thirty men
At Ascalon, who never did thee harm,
Then like a robber stripp'dst them of their robes?
The Philistines, when thou hadst broke the league,
Went up with armed powers thee only seeking,
To others did no violence nor spoil.
Samson. Among the daughters of the Philistines
I chose a wife, which argued me no foe;
And in your city held my nuptial feast:
But your ill-meaning politician lords,
Under pretence of bridal friends and guests,
Appointed to await me thirty spies,
Who, threatening cruel death, constrain❜d the bride
To wring from me, and tell to them, my secret,
That solv'd the riddle which I had propos'd.
When I perceiv'd all set on enmity,
As on my enemies, wherever chanc'd,
I us'd hostility, and took their spoil.
To pay my underminers in their coin.
My nation was subjected to your lords:
It was the force of conquest; force with force
Is well ejected when the conquer'd can
But I, a private person, whom my country
As a league-breaker gave up bound, presum'd
Single rebellion, and did hostile acts.
I was no private, but a person rais'd
With strength sufficient, and command from Heaven,
To free my country; if their servile minds
Me, their deliverer sent, would not receive;
But to their masters gave me up for nought,
The unworthier they; whence to this day they serve.
I was to do my part from Heaven assign'd,
And had perform'd it, if my known offence
Had not disabled me, not all your force:
These shifts refuted, answer thy appellant,
Though by his blindness maim'd for high attempts,
Who now defies thee thrice to single fight,
As a petty enterprise of small enforce.
Kurapha. With thee! a man condemn'd, a slave inroll❜d,
Due by the law to capital punishment!
To fight with thee no man of arms will deign.
Samson. Cam'st thou for this, vain boaster, to
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
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 felt
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
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 victors 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,
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
|