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 These braveries, in irons loaden on thee. Chorus. His giantship is gone somewhat crest fallen, Stalking with less unconscionable strides, Samson. I dread him not, nor all his giant-brood, 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. Will not dare mention, lest a question rise The work of many hands, which earns my keeping Chorus. Oh how comely it is, and how reviving✅ Puts invincible might To quell the mighty of the earth, the oppressour, Tyrannick power, but raging to pursue The righteous and all such as honour truth; And feats of war defeats, With plain heroick magnitude of mind Their armouries and magazines contemns, With winged expedition, Swift as the lightning glance he executes But patience is more oft the exercise That tyranny or fortune can inflict. 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 desery this way Some other tending; in his hand A publick officer, and now at hand; Enter OFFICER. Officer. Hebrews, the prisoner Samson here I seek. Our Law forbids at their religious rites Samson. Have they not sword-players, and every sort Of gymnick artists, wrestlers, riders, runners, To make them sport with blind activity? Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels On my refulsal to distress me more, Or make a game of 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 Can they think me so broken, so debas'd 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 pro Up to the highth, whether to hold or break; |