Off: I am sorry what this
stoutness
will produce.
Milton
Chor: His manacles remark him, there he sits.
Off: Samson, to thee our Lords thus bid me say; 1310
This day to Dagon is a solemn Feast,
With Sacrifices, Triumph, Pomp, and Games;
Thy strength they know surpassing human rate,
And now some public proof thereof require
To honour this great Feast, and great Assembly;
Rise therefore with all speed and come along,
Where I will see thee heartn'd and fresh clad
To appear as fits before th' illustrious Lords.
Sam: Thou knowst I am an Ebrew, therefore tell them,
Our Law forbids at thir Religious Rites 1320
My presence; for that cause I cannot come.
Off: This answer, be assur'd, will not content them.
Sam: Have they not Sword-players, and ev'ry sort
Of Gymnic Artists, Wrestlers, Riders, Runners,
Juglers and Dancers, Antics, Mummers, Mimics,
But they must pick me out with shackles tir'd,
And over-labour'd at thir publick Mill,
To make them sport with blind activity?
Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels
On my refusal to distress me more, 1330
Or make a game of my calamities?
Return the way thou cam'st, I will not come.
Off: Regard thy self, this will offend them highly.
Sam: My self? my conscience and internal peace.
Can they think me so broken, so debas'd
With corporal servitude, that my mind ever
Will condescend to such absurd commands?
Although thir drudge, to be thir fool or jester,
And in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief
To shew them feats, and play before thir god, 1340
The worst of all indignities, yet on me
Joyn'd with extream contempt? I will not come.
Off: My message was impos'd on me with speed,
Brooks no delay: is this thy resolution?
Sam: So take it with what speed thy message needs.
Off: I am sorry what this stoutness will produce.
Sam: Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow indeed.
Chor: Consider, Samson; matters now are strain'd
Up to the highth, whether to bold or break;
He's gone, and who knows how he may report 1350
Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
Expect another message more imperious,
More Lordly thund'ring then thou well wilt bear.
Sam: Shall I abuse this Consecrated gift
Of strength, again returning with my hair
After my great transgression, so requite
Favour renew'd, and add a greater sin
By prostituting holy things to Idols;
A Nazarite in place abominable
Vaunting my strength in honour to thir Dagon? 1360
Besides, how vile, contemptible, ridiculous,
What act more execrably unclean, prophane?
Chor: Yet with this strength thou serv'st the Philistines,
Idolatrous, uncircumcis'd, unclean.
Sam: Not in thir Idol-worship, but by labour
Honest and lawful to deserve my food
Of those who have me in thir civil power.
Chor: Where the heart joins not, outward acts defile not
Sam: Where outward force constrains, the sentence holds:
But who constrains me to the Temple of Dagon, 1370
Not dragging? the Philistian Lords command.
Commands are no constraints. If I obey them,
I do it freely; venturing to displease
God for the fear of Man, and Man prefer,
Set God behind: which in his jealousie
Shall never, unrepented, find forgiveness.
Yet that he may dispense with me or thee
Present in Temples at Idolatrous Rites
For some important cause, thou needst not doubt.
Chor: How thou wilt here come off surmounts my reach. 1380
Sam: Be of good courage, I begin to feel
Some rouzing motions in me which dispose
To something extraordinary my thoughts.
I with this Messenger will go along,
Nothing to do, be sure, that may dishonour
Our Law, or stain my vow of Nazarite.
