As a League-breaker and deliver'd bound Into our hands: for hadft thou not committed At Askalon, who never did thee harm, Then like a Robber strip'dit them of their robes? Samf. Among the Daughters of the Philistins Who threatning cruel death constrain'd the Bride My Nation was fubjected to your Lords. Is well ejected when the Conquer'd can. As a league-breaker gave up bound, prefum'd I was no private but a person rais'd With ftrength fufficient and command from Heav'n Me their deliverer fent would not receive, Har. With thee a man condemn'd, a Slave enrol'd, But But take good heed my hand survey not thee. Hear these dishonours, and not render death? Samf. No man with-holds thee, nothing from thy Fear I incurable; bring up thy van, [hand My heels are fetter'd, but my fist is free. Har. This infolence other kind of answer fits. Samf. Go baffl'd coward, left I run upon thee, Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vaft, And with one buffet lay thy ftructure low, Or fwing thee in the Air, then dash thee down To th' hazard of thy brains and shatter'd sides. Har. By Aftaroth e'er long thou shalt lament These braveries in Irons loaden on thee. Chor. His Giantship is gone fomewhat creft-fall'n, Stalking with lefs unconscionable ftrides, And lower looks, but in a fultrie chafe. Samf. I dread him not, nor all his Giant-brood, Though fame divulg'd him Father of five Sons All of Gigantick fize, Goliah chief. Chor. He will directly to the Lords, I fear, And with malitious counsel stir them up Some way or other farther to afflict thee. Samf. Samf. He must alledge fome caufe, and offer'd figh Will not dare mention, left a question rise Whether he durft accept the offer or not, If they intend advantage of The work of many hands, which earns my keeping But come what will, my deadlieft Foe will prove The worst that he can give, to me the best. Chor. Oh how comely it is and how reviving To quell the mighty of the Earth, th' oppreffor, Tyrannick power, but raging to pursue The The righteous and all fuch as honour Truth; He all their Ammunition And feats of War defeats With plain Heroick magnitude of mind And celeftial vigour arm'd, Their Armories and Magazins contemns, With winged expedition Swift as the light'ning glance he executes That tyranny or fortune can inflict, Either of these is in thy lot, Samfon, with might endu'd Above the Sons of men; but fight bereav'd Whom Patience finally must crown. This Idols day hath been to thee no day of rest, Labouring |