Division into Act and Scene referring chiefly to the Stage (to which this work never was intended) is here omitted.
It suffices if the whole Drama be found not produc't beyond the fift Act, of the style and uniformitie, and that commonly call'd the Plot, whether intricate or explicit, which is nothing indeed but such oeconomy, or disposition of the fable as may stand best with verisimilitude and decorum; they only will best judge who are not unacquainted with Aeschulus, Sophocles, and Euripides, the three Tragic Poets unequall'd yet by any, and the best rule to all who endeavour to write Tragedy.

The circumscription of time wherein the whole Drama begins and ends, is according to antient rule, and best example, within the space of 24 hours.
The Argument.
Samson made Captive, Blind, and now in the Prison at Gaza, there to labour as in a common work-house, on a Festival day, in the general cessation from labour, comes forth into the open Air, to a place nigh, somewhat retir'd there to sit a while and bemoan his condition.

Where he happens at length to be visited by certain friends and equals of his tribe, which make the Chorus, who seek to comfort him what they can; then by his old Father Manoa, who endeavours the like, and withal tells him his purpose to procure his liberty by ransom; lastly, that this Feast was proclaim'd by the Philistins as a day of Thanksgiving for thir deliverance from the hands of Samson, which yet more troubles him.
Manoa then departs to prosecute his endeavour with the Philistian Lords for Samson's redemption; who in the mean while is visited by other persons; and lastly by a publick Officer to require coming to the Feast before the Lords and People, to play or shew his strength in thir presence; he at first refuses, dismissing the publick officer with absolute denyal to come; at length perswaded inwardly that this was from God, he yields to go along with him, who came now the second time with great threatnings to fetch him; the Chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoa returns full of joyful hope, to procure e're long his Sons deliverance: in the midst of which discourse an Ebrew comes in haste confusedly at first; and afterward more distinctly relating the Catastrophe, what Samson had done to the Philistins, and by accident to himself; wherewith the Tragedy ends.
The Persons Samson.
Manoa the father of Samson.
Dalila his wife.
Harapha of Gath.
Publick Officer.
Messenger.
Chorus of Danites The Scene before the Prison in Gaza.
Sam: A little onward lend thy guiding hand To these dark steps, a little further on; For yonder bank hath choice of Sun or shade, There I am wont to sit, when any chance Relieves me from my task of servile toyl, Daily in the common Prison else enjoyn'd me, Where I a Prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw The air imprison'd also, close and damp, Unwholsom draught: but here I feel amends, The breath of Heav'n fresh-blowing, pure and sweet, 10 With day-spring born; here leave me to respire.
This day a solemn Feast the people hold To Dagon thir Sea-Idol, and forbid Laborious works, unwillingly this rest Thir Superstition yields me; hence with leave Retiring from the popular noise, I seek This unfrequented place to find some ease, Ease to the body some, none to the mind From restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm Of Hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, 20 But rush upon me thronging, and present Times past, what once I was, and what am now.
O wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold Twice by an Angel, who at last in sight Of both my Parents all in flames ascended From off the Altar, where an Off'ring burn'd, As in a fiery column charioting His Godlike presence, and from some great act Or benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race?
Why was my breeding order'd and prescrib'd 30 As of a person separate to God, Design'd for great exploits; if I must dye Betray'd, Captiv'd, and both my Eyes put out, Made of my Enemies the scorn and gaze; To grind in Brazen Fetters under task With this Heav'n-gifted strength?
O glorious strength Put to the labour of a Beast, debas't Lower then bondslave! Promise was that I Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver; Ask for this great Deliverer now, and find him 40 Eyeless in Gaza at the Mill with slaves, Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke; Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt Divine Prediction; what if all foretold Had been fulfilld but through mine own default, Whom have I to complain of but my self?
Who this high gift of strength committed to me, In what part lodg'd, how easily bereft me, Under the Seal of silence could not keep, But weakly to a woman must reveal it 50 O'recome with importunity and tears.
O impotence of mind, in body strong! But what is strength without a double share Of wisdom, vast, unwieldy, burdensom, Proudly secure, yet liable to fall By weakest suttleties, not made to rule, But to subserve where wisdom bears command.
God, when he gave me strength, to shew withal How slight the gift was, hung it in my Hair.
But peace, I must not quarrel with the will 60 Of highest dispensation, which herein Happ'ly had ends above my reach to know: Suffices that to me strength is my bane, And proves the sourse of all my miseries; So many, and so huge, that each apart Would ask a life to wail, but chief of all, O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse then chains, Dungeon, or beggery, or decrepit age! Light the prime work of God to me is extinct, And all her various objects of delight Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eas'd, Inferiour to the vilest now become Of man or worm; the vilest here excel me, They creep, yet see, I dark in light expos'd To daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong, Within doors, or without, still as a fool, In power of others, never in my own; Scarce half I seem to live, dead more then half.
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, 80 Irrecoverably dark, total Eclipse Without all hope of day! O first created Beam, and thou great Word, Let there be light, and light was over all; Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree?
The Sun to me is dark And silent as the Moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
Since light so necessary is to life, 90 And almost life itself, if it be true That light is in the Soul, She all in every part; why was the sight To such a tender ball as th' eye confin'd?
So obvious and so easie to be quench't, And not as feeling through all parts diffus'd, That she might look at will through every pore?
Then had I not been thus exil'd from light; As in the land of darkness yet in light, To live a life half dead, a living death, 100 And buried; but O yet more miserable! My self, my Sepulcher, a moving Grave, Buried, yet not exempt By priviledge of death and burial From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs, But made hereby obnoxious more To all the miseries of life, Life in captivity Among inhuman foes.
But who are these?
for with joint pace I hear 110 The tread of many feet stearing this way; Perhaps my enemies who come to stare At my affliction, and perhaps to insult, Thir daily practice to afflict me more.
Chor: This, this is he; softly a while, Let us not break in upon him; O change beyond report, thought, or belief! See how he lies at random, carelessly diffus'd, With languish't head unpropt, As one past hope, abandon'd 120 And by himself given over; In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds O're worn and soild; Or do my eyes misrepresent?
Can this be hee, That Heroic, that Renown'd, Irresistible Samson?
whom unarm'd No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast could withstand; Who tore the Lion, as the Lion tears the Kid, Ran on embattelld Armies clad in Iron, And weaponless himself, 130 Made Arms ridiculous, useless the forgery Of brazen shield and spear, the hammer'd Cuirass, Chalybean temper'd steel, and frock of mail Adamantean Proof; But safest he who stood aloof, When insupportably his foot advanc't, In scorn of thir proud arms and warlike tools, Spurn'd them to death by Troops.

The bold Ascalonite Fled from his Lion ramp, old Warriors turn'd Thir plated backs under his heel; 140 Or grovling soild thir crested helmets in the dust.
Then with what trivial weapon came to Hand, The Jaw of a dead Ass, his sword of bone, A thousand fore-skins fell, the flower of Palestin In Ramath-lechi famous to this day: Then by main force pull'd up, and on his shoulders bore The Gates of Azza, Post, and massie Bar Up to the Hill by Hebron, seat of Giants old, No journey of a Sabbath day, and loaded so; Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up Heav'n.

150 Which shall I first bewail, Thy Bondage or lost Sight, Prison within Prison Inseparably dark?
Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!) The Dungeon of thy self; thy Soul (Which Men enjoying sight oft without cause complain) Imprison'd now indeed, In real darkness of the body dwells, Shut up from outward light 160 To incorporate with gloomy night; For inward light alas Puts forth no visual beam.
O mirror of our fickle state, Since man on earth unparallel'd! The rarer thy example stands, By how much from the top of wondrous glory, Strongest of mortal men, To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fall'n.
For him I reckon not in high estate 170 Whom long descent of birth Or the sphear of fortune raises; But thee whose strength, while vertue was her mate Might have subdu'd the Earth, Universally crown'd with highest praises.
Sam: I hear the sound of words, thir sense the air Dissolves unjointed e're it reach my ear.
Chor: Hee speaks, let us draw nigh.