No More Learning

The edifice, where all were met to see him,
Upon their heads and on his own he pulled.
The building was a spacious theatre,
Half round on two main pillars vaulted high,
With seats where all the lords, and each degree
Of sort, might sit in order to behold.
Immediately
Was Samson as a public servant brought,
In their state livery clad.
At sight of him the people with a shout
Rifted the air, clamoring their god with praise,
Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall.
He patient, but undaunted, where they led him,
Came to the place; and what was set before him,
Which without help of eye might be assayed,
To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performed
All with incredible, stupendous force,
None daring to appear antagonist
At length, for intermission sake, they led him
Between the pillars; he his guide requested,
As over-tired, to let him lean awhile
With both his arms on those two massy pillars,
That to the arched roof gave main support.
He unsuspicious led him; which when Samson
Felt in his arms, with head awhile inclined,
And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed,
Or some great matter in his mind revolved.
At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud,
"Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed
I have performed, as reason was, obeying,
Not without wonder or delight beheld;
Now, of my own accord, such other trial
I mean to show you of my strength yet greater
As with amaze shall strike all who behold. "
This uttered, straightening all his nerves, he bowed.
As with the force of winds and waters pent
When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars
With horrible convulsions to and fro
He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew
The whole roof after them with burst of thunder
Upon the heads of all who sat beneath,
Lords, ladies, captains, counsellors, or priests,
Their choice nobility and flower, not only
Of this, but each Philistian city round,
Met from all parts to solemnise this feast.
Samson, with these immixed, inevitably
Pulled down the same destruction on himself;
The vulgar only scaped, who stood without.

MANOA: Samson hath quit himself
Like Samson, and heroically hath finished
A life heroic.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail
Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt,
Dispraise or blame; nothing but well and fair,
And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
Let us go find the body where it lies.

I, with what speed the while
Will send for all my kindred, all my friends,
To fetch him hence, and solemnly attend,
With silent obsequy and funeral train,
Home to his father's house. There will I build him
A monument, and plant it round with shade
Of laurel evergreen and branching palm,
With all his trophies hung, and acts enrolled
In copious legend, or sweet lyric song.
Thither shall all the valiant youth resort,
And from his memory inflame their breasts
To matchless valour and adventures high.


FOOTNOTES:

[AC] "Samson Agonistes" (that is, "Samson the Athlete, or
Wrestler"), Milton's tragedy, cast in a classical mould, was composed
after "Paradise Regained" was written, and after "Paradise Lost" was
published. It was issued in 1671. No reader with knowledge can avoid
associating the poem in a personal way with Milton, who, like Samson,
was blind, living in the midst of enemies, and to some extent deserted;
and, like him too, did not lose heart on behalf of the life's cause
which, unlike Samson, he had never betrayed. As becomes a drama, it
has more vigorously sustained movement than any of Milton's works. The
familiar story is skilfully developed and relieved, and the formality
of the style does not detract from the pity and beauty, while it adds
to the dignity of the work.




MOLIERE[AD]




The Doctor in Spite of Himself


_Persons in the Play_

SGANARELLE
MARTINE, _Sganarelle's wife_
LUCAS
JACQUELINE, _Lucas's wife, and nurse at M. Geronte's_
GERONTE
LUCINDE, _Geronte's daughter_
LEANDRE, _her lover_
VALERE, _Geronte's attendant_


ACT I

Just when the day has been fixed for the marriage of Lucinde, daughter
of M. Geronte, she suddenly becomes dumb, and no doctors are found
skillful enough to cure her. One day Valere, M. Geronte's attendant,
and Lucas, the nurse, are scouring the country in search of someone
able to restore their young mistress's speech, when they fell in with
Martine, the wife of Sganarelle, a bibulous faggot-binder. Sganarelle,
who has served a famous doctor for ten years, has just been beating
his wife, and she, in revenge, hearing the kind of person they are
looking for, strongly recommends her husband to them as an eccentric
doctor who has performed wonderful and almost incredible cures, but
who always disclaims his profession, and will never practice it until
he has been well cudgelled. Lucas and Valere accordingly go in quest
of Sganarelle, and, having found him, express their desire of availing
themselves of his services as doctor. At first the faggot-binder
vehemently denies that he is a doctor, but at last--thanks to the use
of the persuasion recommended by Martine--he confesses to a knowledge
of the physician's art, is induced to undertake the cure of Mlle.
Lucinde, and, on being introduced at M. Geronte's house, gives proof
of his eccentricity as a doctor by cudgelling the master and embracing
the nurse.