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PAGE 19

Samson Agonistes, A Dramatic Poem
by [?]

Man: Peace with you brethren; my inducement hither
Was not at present here to find my Son,
By order of the Lords new parted hence
To come and play before them at thir Feast.
I heard all as I came, the City rings
And numbers thither flock, I had no will, 1450
Lest I should see him forc’t to things unseemly.
But that which moved my coming now, was chiefly
To give ye part with me what hope I have
With good success to work his liberty.

Chor: That hope would much rejoyce us to partake
With thee; say reverend Sire, we thirst to hear.

Man: I have attempted one by one the Lords
Either at home, or through the high street passing,
With supplication prone and Fathers tears
To accept of ransom for my Son thir pris’ner, 1460
Some much averse I found and wondrous harsh,
Contemptuous, proud, set on revenge and spite;
That part most reverenc’d Dagon and his Priests,
Others more moderate seeming, but thir aim
Private reward, for which both God and State
They easily would set to sale, a third
More generous far and civil, who confess’d
They had anough reveng’d, having reduc’t
Thir foe to misery beneath thir fears,
The rest was magnanimity to remit, 1470
If some convenient ransom were propos’d.
What noise or shout was that? it tore the Skie.

Chor: Doubtless the people shouting to behold
Thir once great dread, captive, & blind before them,
Or at some proof of strength before them shown.

Man: His ransom, if my whole inheritance
May compass it, shall willingly be paid
And numberd down: much rather I shall chuse
To live the poorest in my Tribe, then richest,
And he in that calamitous prison left. 1480
No, I am fixt not to part hence without him.
For his redemption all my Patrimony,
If need be, I am ready to forgo
And quit: not wanting him, I shall want nothing.

Chor: Fathers are wont to lay up for thir Sons,
Thou for thy Son art bent to lay out all;
Sons wont to nurse thir Parents in old age,
Thou in old age car’st how to nurse thy Son,
Made older then thy age through eye-sight lost.

Man: It shall be my delight to tend his eyes, 1490
And view him sitting in the house, enobl’d
With all those high exploits by him atchiev’d,
And on his shoulders waving down those locks,
That of a Nation arm’d the strength contain’d:
And I perswade me God had not permitted
His strength again to grow up with his hair
Garrison’d round about him like a Camp
Of faithful Souldiery, were not his purpose
To use him further yet in some great service,
Not to sit idle with so great a gift 1500
Useless, and thence ridiculous about him.
And since his strength with eye-sight was not lost,
God will restore him eye-sight to his strength.

Chor: Thy hopes are not ill founded nor seem vain
Of his delivery, and thy joy thereon
Conceiv’d, agreeable to a Fathers love,
In both which we, as next participate.