A most excellent and famous Ditty of Sampson Iudge of Israel, how hee wedded Philistines Daughter, who at length forsooke him: also how hee slew a Lyon, and propounded a Riddle, and after how hee was falsely betrayed by Dalila, and of his death.
To the tune of the Spanish pauin.
VVHen
Sampson was a tall yong man
His power and strength increased than
And in the host and Tribe of
Dan,
the Lord did blesse him still.
It chanced so v
[...]on a day,
As he was walking on his way,
He saw a Maiden fresh and gay
in
Ti
[...]nah.
With whom he fell so sore in loue,
That he his fancy couldnot moue:
His Parents therefore he did proue,
and craued their good wills.
I haue found out a wife quoth he,
I pray you Father giue her me,
Though she a strangers daughter be,
I passe not.
Then did bespeake his Parents deere,
Haue we not many Maydens here,
Of Countrey, and acquaintance neere,
for thee to loue and like?
O no, (quoth
Sampson presently)
Not one so pleasant in mine eye,
Whom I could find so faithfully
to fancy.
At length they granted their consent:
And so with
Sampson foorth they went,
To see the Mayd was their intent.
which was so faire and bright:
But as they were a going there,
A Lyon put them in great feare,
Whom
Sompson presently did teare,
in peeces.
When they were come vnto the place,
They were agreed in the case:
The wedding day appoynted was:
and when the time was come.
As
Sampson went for beauties fées,
The Lyons carkasse there he sees,
Wherein a sort of honny bees
had swarmed.
Then closely
Sampson went his way,
And not a word thereof did say,
Vntill the merry feasting day,
vnto the Company.
A Riddle I will shew, quoth he,
The meaning if you tell to me
Within seauen dayes, I will giue yée
great riches.
But if the meaning you doe misse,
And cannot shew me what it is,
Then shall you giue to me (I wisse)
so much as I haue said.
Put foorth the Riddle (then quoth they)
And wee will tell it by our day,
Or we will lose (as thou dost say)
the wager.
Then make (quoth hee) the totall summer
Out of the eater meate did come,
And from the strong did sweetnesse runne,
declare it if you can.
And when they heard the Riddle told,
Their hearts wichin them waxed cold:
For none of them could then vnfold
the meaning.
Then vnto
Sampsons wife went they
And theatned her with delay,
If she would not the the thing bewray,
to burne her Fathers house.
Then
Sampsons wife with griefe and woe
Desired him the same to show:
And when she knew she straight did goe
to tell them.
Then were they all full glad of this,
To tell the thing they did not misse,
What stronger beast then Lyon is?
What sweeter meat? then honny:
The
Sampson answered them full round:
If my Hayfar had not ploughed the groūd,
So easily you had not found
my Riddle.
Then
Sampson did his losses pay,
And to his father went his way,
But wisht with them he there did stay,
his wife forsooke him quite,
And tooke another to her Loue,
Which
Sampsons anger much did moue,
To plague them therefore he did proue
his cunning.
A subtill sight he then had found,
To burne their corne vpon the ground,
Their Vineyards he destroyed round
which made them fret and fume.
But when they knew that
Sampson he
Had done them all this iniury,
Because his wife did him deny,
they killed her.
And afterward they had decreed,
To murther
Sampson for that deed,
Three thousand men they sent with speede
to bring him bound to them:
But he did breake his cords apace,
And with the Iaw-bone of an Asse,
A thousand men ere he did passe,
he killed.
When all his foes were laid in dust,
Then
Sampson was full sore athirst,
In God therefore was all his trust,
to helpe his fainting heart:
For liquor thereabout was none?
The Lord therefore from the Iaw-bone,
Did make fresh water spring alone.
to helpe him.
Then
Sampson had a ioyfull spright,
And in a Citty lay that nigh,
Whereas his foes with deadly spight,
did seeke his life to spill:
But he at midnight then awakes,
And tearing downe the Citty gates
With him away the same he takes,
most stoutly.
Then on
Dalila faire and bright,
Did Sampson set his whole delight,
Whom he did loue both day and night,
which wrought his ouerthrow:
For she with sweete words did intreat,
That for her sake he would repeat,
Wherein his strength, that was so great
consisted.
At length vnto his water fall,
And through her suite, which was not
[...]
He did not let to shew her all,
the secrets of his heart:
If that my hayre be cut, (quoth he)
Which now so faire and long you see,
Likes other men then shall I be,
in weckenesse.
Then through deceit which was so deepe,
She lulled Sampson fast asleepe,
A man shee cald which she did keepe,
to cut off all his hayre.
Then did she call his hatefull foes,
Ere Sampson from her lap arose,
Who could not thē withstand their blow,
for weakenesse.
To binde him fast they did deuise,
Then did they put out both his eyes,
In prison woefully he lyes,
and there he grinds the Mill.
But God remembred all his paine,
And did restore his strength againe,
Although that bound he did remaine,
in prison.
The Philistines now were glad of this,
For ioy they made a feast (I wisse)
And all their Princes did not misse
to come vnto the same:
And being merry bene that day,
For Sampson they did send stratghtway
That they might laugh to see him play,
among them.
Then to house was Sampson led
And when he had their fancies fed,
He plucke the house vpon their head,
and downe they tumbled all:
So that with griefe and deadly paine,
Three thousand persons chere was slame,
Thus Sampson then with all his traine,
was braiued.
FINIS.
Printed by the Assignes of Thomas Symcocke.
The wofull lamentation of Edward Smith, a poore penitent prisoner in the Iayle of Bedford, which he wrote a short time before his death.
To the tune of, Daintie come thou to me.
I Am a Prisoner poore,
Opprest with miserie:
O Lord do thou restore,
that faith which wants in me.
In woe I waile and weep,
In griping grief I cry,
In dungeon darke and deep,
In fetters fast I lie
Sighing I sit and moane
My foule offences all,
My loathsome life is knowne,
which makes me liue in thrall
Ned Smith I am, the wight
In prison that remaines,
Tormented day and night,
with bands and iron chaines.
My ioyes are turnd to nought,
My hopes are worne away,
My wickednesse hath wrought
my downe-fall and decay.
Those gifts that God gaue me,
My wants for to supply,
Abused much I haue.
to please my fantasie.
My name I did deny,
In Baptisme giuen me,
That Sacrament whereby
regenerate I should be.
No wit nor strength may serue
The Law to satisfie:
For death I do deserue,
in right and equity.
For I offended haue
Nobles of hie degree,
What fauour can I craue
for life or liberty.
But hope of life is past,
My acts so hainous be.
And liberty is lost,
till death doe set me free.
All men both old and young
Which are at liberty,
And heare my dolefull song.
example take by me.
Be true and trust in God,
Only theft and vice eschew,
Lest Gods most heauie rod,
correct your deeds untrue.
Would I had nere bin borne
To do such wicked déeds,
Which makes me liue in scorne
and shame that sore excéeds.
But that which passed is,
I cannot now recall:
My sinnes and my amisse,
O Lord forgiue them all.
Woe worth ill company,
Fie on that filthy crue:
Accurst the day may be
that euer I them knew.
If life and death were set
Before me for to chose,
Though I might pardon get,
my life first would I lose,
Then runne that wicked race,
And doe as I haue done,
Sweet Iesus giue me grace,
that life so lewd to shun.
Farewell my louing wife
Who sought to turn my minde,
And make me mend my life,
thy words full true I finde,
Farewell my children all,
My tender Babes adue:
Let this your Fathers fall,
be warning good for you.
Deare wife and infants three,
Serue God remember this,
That you true subiects be,
though I haue done amisse.
Farewell my musick swéet,
And Cittorn siluer sound,
Mourning for me is méet
my sinnes do so abound.
O Lord on bended knees
And hands lift vp on hie,
Cast on me gracious eies
with grace my wants supply
Lay not unto my charge,
The thinges that I haue done,
Though I haue runne at large.
and plaid the vnthrift sonne.
Yet now I do repent,
And humbly come to thee
My sinnes I do lament,
swéet Iesus comfort me.
O Lord I do Lament,
And onely ioy in thee,
To praise thée day and night,
for thou redeemedst me.
Lord saue our royall King
Whose prisoner poore am I,
Prolong his daies on earth,
with fame and victory.
Against his Maiestie,
I haue offended sore,
Committing Felony,
and now I die therefore.
A dolefull death God knowes,
Which once I did defie:
Thus must I end my woes
which I take patiently,
By thee O Sauiour swéet,
In heauen I hope to rest,
In ioy where I shal méet,
those soules whom thou hast blest
Where we shall sing thy praise,
O God, with voyce high,
When I shall end my dayes,
and liue eternally.
FINIS.
Printed by the Assignes of Thomas Symcock.