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Egypts Favourite

The Historie of Joseph, divided into four parts: Together with old Israels Progresse into the Land of Goshen. By Francis Hubert

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THE CHASTE COVRTIER.
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THE CHASTE COVRTIER.

Ioseph in Gremio. OR, The Faithfull Seruant.

1

Braue gallant Youthes, the hope and pride of Courts,
Whose haughty spirits actiue fire inflames,
Clayming by Birth (as Charter) your disports,
Chiefely the sweet Prerogatiue of Dames,

2

Take my Survey vvith a true-iudging eye,
I shall be found a Master-piece of Nature,
For forme, and fortune of great raritie,
Not paralleld by any common Creature.


3

I was borne free, but (loe) I now must serue,
I was a youth borne faire and fit for action,
My dutious seruice did so well deserue,
As soone I wonne into my Lords affection.

4

O no, it was not any worth in me,
That made such way into my Masters heart:
This streame (great Sea of goodnes) flow'd frō thee,
Thou Sunne of grace and glory didst impart

5

One beame of brightnesse to my clouded state.
It was indeed thy heau'nly influence,
Whose vertue drew me from the pit of late,
And now workes strongly on my Masters sense,

6

Whose apprehension made him quickly find,
That God was with me, and did blesse my wayes,
That was the Loadstone drew his steely mind,
My luster did reflect from Heau'ns faire rayes.

7

All vnder-Planets were in opposition,
I was a stranger borne, and eu'n from thence,
He might deriue a very iust suspition,
Strangers are entertain'd with diffidence.


8

I was but greene, and tasted of the tree,
Vnripe for service, or for secrecie,
And no true iudgement could he make of me,
He could not take my height so suddenly.

9

But grant I were completely honest, yet
By vnexperience I was vselesse made
For any great imployment, and that Bit
Might hold me hard, till I was better way'd.

10

But all these heauie morsels are digested,
Heau'n had so vvhetted on his appetite,
That he did seeme eu'n with my service feasted,
And relisht all my actions with delight.

11

So (like a Mushrumpe) in a night I grew
So great in grace, that I had in my hand
All that was his, so much, he scarcely knew
What he should eat, or drinke; his coyne, his land,

12

His whole Revenue, Jewels, Stocke and Plate,
Indeed himselfe was manag'd by my hand,
He seem'd the servant, vvhilst I swayd the state,
For all his fortunes were at my command.


13

This was a gallant and vnlook'd-for Rise,
Much for a youth and stranger to attaine:
But thus it pleas'd (I say not Destinies)
But Providence, who rides Fate with his raigne.

14

Still I increas'd in favour and in grace,
And (which is strange) grew great yet not envi'd,
And being of comely presence, faire of face,
Of winning carriage, and well qualified,

15

My Lady-Mistresse cast an amourous eye
Vpon my forme, which her affections drew,
Shee was Loues Martyr, and in flames did frye,
But (like a woman) did that loue pursue)

16

Wisely and cunningly: To my deare Lord
A true and faithfull seruant shee commends me;
And he that durst relye vpon her word,
Alas, not ghessing once what shee intends me,

17

Addes fewell to the fire, that scorch'd her heart,
My youth, my forme, my haviour he admired,
He read a Lecture on each seu'rall part,
And prayes her cherish what she most desired.


18

Which for his sake (she sayes) she will effect,
And sith I was so high in his opinion,
Who vvas her soule, I should haue her respect,
And thenceforth be her Favourite, her Minion:

19

For well she knew, himselfe was so compleat
In Iudgement, and in euery worthy part,
That 'twas no common vertue that could get
So neere, and deare a place within his heart.

20

And she had learn'd (by his example taught)
To favour vertue, though it seeme deiected,
And thus shee mask'd the foulnesse of her thought,
And made her way to what shee most affected.

21

From that time forward shee would cast such lookes
To all my actions, giue such commendation,
As one but meanly read in Cupids bookes,
Might know the stories end by th'insinuation.

22

Shee vs'd me like a sonne, not like a slaue;
Or (if that Title, full of heau'nly fire,
Fits not her hellish heat) then let it haue
Some other name, to palliate her desire,


23

Which oft wrought in her passionate extreames,
Shee drawes me to discourse, free, friendly, close,
Shee questions me both of my wants and meanes,
And largely offers full supply of those.

24

Ebrew (shee sayes) me thinkes you doe not looke
With that aspect, that you were wont to doe,
Your heart is not your owne: I doubt, y'are tooke
With some Egyptian beautie: Is't not so?

25

Come tell me truely, and I here protest
By Putipher himselfe, whom thou holdst deare,
Who loues thee too, next to my selfe the best,
In this thy loue, my loue too shall appeare.

26

He be thy spokes-woman, for thee Ile wooe.
With that he blushes: which shee soone espies,
And (heeding well the beautie of his hew)
Shee blusht her blush, with him to sympathize.

27

But he that did not, would not, at least, know,
Whither her speech and soft discourse did tend:
Madame (replyes) now by the loue I owe
To Putipher, and shall vntill my end,


28

And next my duetie to you (fairest Dame),
No womans loue yet euer touch'd my heart,
I thanke my God, I never knew that flame:
But vvere it scortch'd (me thinks) I durst impart

29

It to your goodnesse. Pray thee (quoth shee) doe.
And so I will (quoth he) when I am shot:
I owe my selfe vnto my Lord and you.
And may shee perish that affects thee not.

30

Thus softly to her selfe (of him vnheard)
The Lady spake: And glad that he was free,
Within her selfe she plotted and conferr'd
How Iosephs loue by her might compast be.

31

Woman, thou art a fayre and winning Creature,
Did I say comming too, I should not lye:
And yet that word doth not expresse thy nature,
For thou art seeking too, if men would flye.

32

But tis thy Tenure to be sought vnto,
Men vvooe by Custome, that's thy Copie-hold,
We sue for that which thou art sicke to doe,
And art all fire, yet seemest ycie cold.


33

And why should'st thou not colour thy desire?
Since thou hast learn'd to colour head and face,
Which are indeed but Beakons set on fire,
To giue vs warning (if we had the grace

34

To apprehendie) of thy foes arriving,
Old age and time, which are thy greatest foes,
Gainst whom, thou and thy Boxes will be striving,
But striu'st in vaine; thou canst not conquer those.

35

For Age will seize thy colours in the field,
Thy youths faire colours, being red and white,
That great Commander, Time, wil make thee yeeld,
And forreine aydes will fayle thee in the fight.

36

But whither dost thou stray, my wandring Muse?
I doe not thinke, that in those ancient times,
Though women could their husbands then abuse,
They vvere not guiltie yet of these new crimes.

37

But then it was (I hope not now) the guise,
To make all meanes answere vnto their ends,
Our age breeds fooles: the women then were vvise,
And had, and kept, and vs'd their private friends.


38

But (O) you vertuous and vnspotted Dames,
That now are ty'd with Hymens golden chaine,
Whose holy thoughts ne'r dream't of vnchaste flames.
But truly louing, are so lou'd againe.

39

Who (as that worthy Romane Lady sayd)
Doe know no other but your husbands breath:
True Turtles, Virgine vviues, that never stray'd
From wayes of life, into the paths of death.

40

Frowne not vpon my Muse, and her free Song,
Nor cast into the Vrne a coale-blacke stone,
Your Vertue is your owne: Nor is't a wrong,
To blaze the errours of one faultie one:

41

Let her vnchastnesse serue but as a foyle
To make your constant vertue shine the more:
Some vveeds will grow eu'n in the richest soyle,
Nor doe we prize the same the lesse therefore.

42

Then on, my Muse, and feare not to relate
Those songs of death, vvhich this faire Siren sung:
Poore Ioseph, once betrayd by too much hate,
Now too much loue (I feare) will doe thee vvron.


43

For on a day, (the servants all being out,
By accident, or purpose sent away,
But sure it was her wit brought it about)
The Lady on her Day-bed slumbring lay,

44

And (as she wish'd) this Ebrew had accesse,
The house was voyd, and all things did conspire
To make her set abroach her filthinesse.
Joseph (quoth shee) approach, and quench my fire:

45

I must confesse I loue thee, and no longer
Can this my passion hide from thee, my Loue;
Deferre not (gentle youth) thou shouldst be stronger
In thy desires, being Man: for Men must moue.

46

Come, lye thee downe, and hug me in thine armes:
(With that the clothes that covered the bed
Shee cast aside) and then displayd such charmes,
As would haue rays'd a man, eu'n almost dead.

47

Feare not (soft youth) for here are none but we:
Lust-blinded vvoman, thou art much awry,
An eye (standing vpon a staffe) doth see,
(The Emblem of his knowledge is the eye,


48

And of his power the staffe) He sees thee well,
And he will strike thee too vvith his strong arme,
The shapelesse vnseene Deu'll (the Prince of hell)
Stands by thee too, and prompts thee to thy harme.

49

And thine owne Conscience is a witnesse now,
And will, in time, be a tormentor too:
But (all respects remou'd) shee labours how
To compasse that vvhich shee resolu'd to doe.

50

And therefore thus continues her blacke spell,
Ioseph (faire Ioseph) thou hast stolne my heart,
Heartlesse I cannot liue: Sweet vse me well;
'Tis shee that begs, that might command in part.

51

This ycie youth (when thus he heard her speake)
Lookes pale for sorrow, like a man halfe dead,
And with a sigh (as if his heart would breake)
Bashfully modest, thus to her he sayd:

52

Madam, you are a wise and vertuous woman,
And know vvhat 'tis to breake a sacred trust;
This vnment Parley (which you now doe summon)
Must trie, if to my Lord I will proue iust.


53

Your selfe except (deare Lady) what is his,
But I may freely vse it as mine owne?
And shee is thine too, seale it with a kisse:
'Tis strange, a youth of flesh should be a stone.

54

Milk-sop, what dost thou feare? Here's none can see:
Or say they should, there's none that dare relate:
Great Lords haue sought what's freely offred thee,
And with some hazard would be glad to haue't.

55

The pride of Egypts Court I haue withstood,
And am esteem'd a chaste and modest Dame,
To thee alone I prostitute my blood,
And shall I be deny'd? Fie boy, for shame

56

Collect thy spirits, wrong not thy Countrey so:
Doth Palestine faire Eunches onely breed?
Are Canaans childrens bodies made of snow?
Or vpon Agnus castus doe they feed?

57

Without all doubt thy father was not such,
When he made loue vnto his louely Pheere:
Thou wrongst both ours, & thine own sex too much,
But most of all thou wrongst thy selfe (my deere.)


58

By Heau'n I doe not speake to sift thy faith,
There is more fire, more passion in my speech,
Grant me thy loue, and presently (she saith)
(Yet once againe I humbly thee beseech)

59

Or by th'Egyptian Gods, (and then she swore)
As forcing her she would an out-cry make:
Shee lou'd him much, but she should hate him more,
If now her profer'd fauours he forsake.

60

Still mute he stands: nor doth one signe expresse,
That might giue comfort to her foule desire:
Still grew shee hotter from his backwardnesse,
Deniall like a bellowes blowes the fire.

61

Yet finding Man and Youth speake in his blood
Rebellious thoughts, to vvhich he was not vsed,
And that her words grew not to be withstood,
They were with so much loue, and sting effused.

62

First, he betakes himselfe vnto his God:
Shall I (quoth he) offend that dreadfull Power,
That whips all sinners with a steely rod?
Whose wrath (like flaming fire) doth all devoure.


63

O could I act this ill without his sight,
I might be drawne to hazard this sweet sinne:
Or (say he saw it) vvere he not of might,
To plague me for't, I might offend therein.

64

Or (both to grant his knowledge and his might)
Were I not sure it vvere against his will,
The pleasing taste of such a deare delight
Might easely vvorke me to commit this ill.

65

But (O faire Dame) I know my God too vvell,
Too well, so to prouoke him to my death,
My death of soule and body both in hell,
In hell, vvhere there's no ease, nor end of breath.

66

And with this point he breaks the dangerous thrust;
And could we all be drawne vnto this vvard,
Without all doubt vve should haue little lust,
To rush so into sinne without regard.

67

But (O) the present pleasure of the sense
Is such a Pulley, to draw on consent,
That vve are hurryed head-long to th'offence,
And neuer thinke on following punishment.


68

And that same soule vnto the left hand leanes,
Or rather vvith full pace doth thither bend,
That in the quest of good neglects the meanes,
And in the acts of ill forgets the End.

69

Besides this first safe locke, Ioseph recourses
Next to his Masters fauours and his trust,
And those good thoughts his Mistres loue diuorces,
And were strong repercussiues to her lust:

70

Can I (quoth he) abuse so deare a Loue,
So great a trust, as is repos'd in me?
By such an act I very well might prooue
My selfe a slaue, and worthy so to be.

71

For all the gracious fauours hee hath done me,
Shall I requite him vvith so great a wrong?
Your selfe would hate me, if you so had wonne me:
For Lust is hot at hand, but lasts not long.

72

Kind thankfulnesse doth dwell vvith noble minds,
But neuer comes in kenning of a slaue,
A present profit onely vvorkes on hynds,
All former favours haue one birth, one graue.


73

And had not Heau'n directed Josephs heart,
He might haue thought it, (in a reach of wit)
This Ladies Glue, and mine may well impart
A hopefull meanes of future benefit.

74

But Ioseph knew, that fortunes raisd by sinne,
Are like to Summer fruit, that soone will rot;
And therefore no such motiues worke on him,
Greanesse is good, but not by lewdnesse got.

75

Who thinkes by meanes vnlawfull to prevaile,
Doth build his fortunes vpon brittle sand,
Whose weake foundations cannot chuse but faile,
When glorious vertue doth securely stand.

76

Though Earthquakes come, yea though the Heau'ns doe fall,
A spotlesse Conscience stands without controule,
It needs no props to stay it selfe withall,
But hath its strength from motions of the soule.

77

This is a stedfast Rocke, and euery waue
Turnes but to froth that beats against the same,
The care to keepe this calme, vvas that vvhich gaue
Ioseph support against his lustfull Dame.


78

For from the Lady, manger smiles and teares,
And all her bayts that vnto lewdnesse tend,
He loose perforce doth breake, (the cloke he weares,
Left in her hand) himselfe away doth wend:

79

Which seene, deluded Lust becomes a rage,
Her flow of loue turnes to a flood of hate,
Foule secrecies each other may engage,
But neuer truly will incorporate.

80

Murder and Rape she cries: (his Mantle left)
The Ravisher (as one afraid) is fled:
Shee lookes like one of sense and wits bereft,
Ravisht in truth, and not imagined.

81

Her out-crie's heard, and Putipher returnes,
He knew the voyce, and wonders at the cause,
Which whē he heard, excuse him, though he burnes
To be reveng'd of Ioseph by the Lawes.

82

My Lord (quoth shee) the slaue so deare to you,
Whom you made Ruler of your house and State,
Imboldned by your loue, so sawcie grew,
As needs he vvould mine honour violate:


83

Nay, and by force too: But your Loue arm'd feare,
And (though alone) inabled me to crie,
Which heard (base slaue) he fled: See Putipher,
The Ensigne of your Hebrews modestie.

84

With that she shewes his robe, and then she weeps,
For ioy, to thinke vvhat danger she had past,
Into her Lords armes flyes, and there she keeps
Her hold, as drowning folkes (they say) doe fast.

85

Did the slaue thinke I could be false (quoth she)
Or that I vvould vnsauorie pleasures proue?
Can courser cates be welcome vnto me,
That haue bin feasted with thy sweets of Loue?

86

Oft haue I drunke, (and yet I still am drie)
Of purest Nectar, from thy lips distilling,
Commanding Cupid dwelleth in thine eye,
And binds me to be thine, vvere I vnwilling.

87

O Putifer, I haue no Heau'n but thee,
I cannot moue but onely in thy spheare:
Deare is my life, mine honour deare to me,
Then Life and Honour too, thou art more deare.


88

And therewithall (as languishing in loue)
With a soft sigh she straines him in her armes,
Iosephs desire might stirring passions moue:
Lust vp in armes soone stirres vvith small alarmes.

89

Let goe (deare Wife) he cries: 'tis now high time
To punish goatish and vngratefull youth:
Weepe not, his blood shall expiate his crime,
Vnto the vvorld proclaime his fault, thy truth.

90

With much adoe to part shee is content;
But by all Loue, all powrfull spells adjures,
Her Lord should not remit the punishment,
Which ielious angry Putipher assures.

91

O vvoman, thou art euer in extreames,
Either an Ætna, or a Caucasus,
Or burning, like the Dog-starr's fiery gleames,
Or like the bleake North-wind benumbing vs.

92

Ioseph (who went not farre) was quickly found,
And brought before his angry Lord, whose face
Speaking his fury: hee in yrons bound,
Was streight committed to th'offenders place.


93

'Twas then no time to plead: vpon thy Iurie
Had I been summon'd, heard the Evidence
The Lady gaue, poore Ioseph, I assure thee,
I should haue found thee guilty of th'offence,

94

All things did so concurre, the time, the place,
The circumstances, her report, her teares,
Th'amazed lookes of her sad-seeming face,
The servants absence, ioyn'd to Potiphers,

95

The beautie of his forme, his fire of age,
His parts of Nature 'gainst himselfe reflect,
His greatnesse in the house, the Ladies rage,
His robe, her crie, his flight, all vrge suspect.

96

Man could haue iudg'd no lesse, and but a woman,
No creature could her malice so expresse:
This vvas a new vvay then, perhaps, since common,
Sweet youth, I can but pray for thy release.

97

But he that is the God of Innocence,
And vvill not not see the Iust (though scourged) fall:
How he in prison kept, how freed from thence,
If vvinds blow vvell, the Muse discouer shall.


98

For now shee's grieu'd so much with Iosephs wrong,
That she but heauily and harshly sings;
A troubled mind doth make an vntun'd Song,
As muddy water flowes from trampled springs.
Timens Deum, non habet quod timeat vlterius.