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To mix with thy concernments I desist
I leave him to his lot, and like my own. [Exit.] Chorus. She's gone, a manifest serpent by her
sting Discover'd in the end, till now conceald. Samson. So let her go; God sent her to debase
me, And aggravate my folly, who committed To such a viper his most sacred trust Of secresy, my safety, and my life. Chorus. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath
strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd, nor can be easily Repuls’d, without much inward passion felt And secret sting of amorous remorse. Samson. Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord
Chorus. It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit,
If any of these, or all, the Timnian bride
Thy paranymph, worthless to thee compar'd, Successor in thy bed, Nor both so loosly disallied Their nuptials, nor this last so treacherously Had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head. Is it for that such outward ornament Was lavish'd on their sex, that inward gifts Were left for haste unfinish’d, judgement scant, Capacity not rais’d to apprehend Or value what is best In choice, but oftest to affect the wrong? Or was too much of self-love mix'd, Of constancy no root infix'd, That either they love nothing, or not long?
Whate’er it be, to wisest men and best Seeming at first all heavenly under virgin veil, Soft, modest, meek, demure, Once join'd, the contrary she proves, a thorn Intestine, far within defensive arms A cleaving mischief, in his way to virtue Adverse and turbulent, or by her charms Draws him awry enslav'd With dotage, and his sense deprav'd To folly and shameful deeds which ruin ends. What pilot so expert but needs must wreck Imbark'd with such a steers-mate at the helm ?
Favour'd of Heaven, who finds One virtuous, rarely found,
That in domestick good combines;
Therefore God's universal law
But, had we best retire ? I see a storm.
past. : Chorus. Look now for no enchanting voice, nor
fear The bait of hionied words ; a rougher tongue Draws hitherward; I know him by his stride, The giant Harapha of Gath, his look Haughty, as is his pile high-built and proud. Comes he in peace? what wind hath blown him .. . hither I less conjecture than when first I saw
The sumptuous Dalila floating this way:
Samson. Or peace or not, alike to me he comes.
Enter HARAPHA. Harapha. I come not, Samson, to condole thy
chance, As these perhaps, yet wish it had not been, Though for no friendly intent. I am of Gath; Men call me Harapha, of stock renown'd As Og, or Anak, and the Emims old That Kiriathaim held; thou know'st me now, If thou at all art known. Much I have heard Of thy prodigious might and feats perform’d, Incredible to me, in this displeas’d, That I was never present on the place Of those encounters, where we might have tried Each other's force in camp or listed field; And now am come to see of whom such noise Hath walk'd about, and each limb to survey, If thy appearance answer loud report. Samson. The way to know were not to see but
taste. Harapha. Dost thou already single me? I thought Gyves and the mill had tam’d thee. O that fortune Had brought me to the field, where thou art fam'd.