With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,

Sails filled, and streamers waving,

Courted by all the winds that hold them play,

An amber scent of odorous perfume 720

Her harbinger, a damsel train behind;

Some rich Philistian matron she may seem,

And now, at nearer view, no other certain

Than Dalila thy wife.

Samson. My wife? my traitress; let her not come near me. 725

Chorus. Yet on she moves; now stands and eyes thee fixed,