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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

Hubert, Francis

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THE AVTHORS Invocation.

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THE AVTHORS Invocation.

Nor high Olympus, nor Pernassus hill,
Nor fam'd Pierian Sisters I implore,
(The Poets Patrons) to assist my quill,
A higher pitch my Eagle-Muse doth soare.

Thou that taughtst Ishai's youngest sonne to sing
The Songs of Sion, with thy heau'nly deawes
Inspire my heart, as thou didst Sions King,
And sacred drops into my quill infuse.

Thou that didst loue the voyce of that sweet Singer,
And Davids golden Harpe in tune didst keepe,
Teach me that heau'nly Instrument to finger,
Who Dauid-like now sing to Israels Sheepe.

Thou Sonne of David, Davids Lord and King,
Assist my Muse, for now shee takes her wing.

Ioseph in Pvteo.

OR, The Vnfortunate Brother.

1

Of all the worldly blessings which frō heau'n
(Like gracious dew) did fall on Iacobs head,
I doe not thinke there was a greater giu'n,
Then were the sons that from his loynes were bred.

2

It is a Cordiall to the Fathers heart,
To see himselfe so often multiplide,
The like was never made by Chimick Art,
There's no extraction of such strength beside.

3

And in this blessing Iacob had a part,
For Iacobs Zodiaque had twelue seu'rall Signes,
(I meane his sonnes) whose influence did impart
A powrfull strength to him, and his designes.

4

Of all the rest, I was his pretiest boy,
And to my father from my cradle deare,
Sonne of his age, therefore perhaps his ioy,
As by my partie-livery may appeare.

5

Or else perhaps 'twas for my Mothers sake,
To whom his soule with chaines of loue was tyde,
Which caus'd him cherefully to vndertake
Twice seu'n yeeres seruice, to make her his Bride.

6

O Loue, thou art the perfect Adamant,
Which breakes all Hammers, wearies euery arme,
Thou hast no sense of danger, or of want,
No apprehension of ensuing harme.

7

But thou art carried in a full carreere,
With highest speed to vvhat thou dost desire,
Labours are sweet, and difficulties deere,
To compasse that vvhereto thy hopes aspire.

8

Vnwearied loue or labours not at all,
Or else at least doth make all labours light,
Witnesse my father Iacob, Labans thrall,
Or Rachels rather (for to speake more right)

9

Faint with heau'ns frost by night, heau'ns fire by day.
Which (though distastfull) Iacob yet puts over,
Thinking all Moneths alike for one sweet May,
O such a thing it is to bee a Louer.

10

And well it may be that I was affected
For my dead mothers sake, whom he held deare:
But sure it is, that I was much respected,
And Rachels loue in Joseph did appeare.

11

For he did loue mee more in truth and shew,
Then all the children that he had beside,
Who thereupon did discontented grow,
His loue to me made me to be envy'de.

12

Alasse, that from a root so sweet should spring
So noysome, and so venemous a flower:
But thus (we see) it holds in euery thing,
Great fortunes, great affections, place and power

13

Are subiect to great envie: men will hate
That eminence, which they cannot attaine:
It may be Natures fault, it may be Fate,
It may be Custome, vvhich few can restraine.

14

What ere the cause be, that's th'effect (we see)
Eu'n brothers of one backe will make it good,
My fathers loue had fatall been to me,
If gracious heau'n had not their wils withstood.

15

He loues, they hate: and to fill vp the streame,
And swell the humour of their ranckling hate,
(So God would haue it) I must haue a dreame,
Which (foolish lad) to them I did relate.

16

Dreames are the Daughters of the silent Night,
Begot on divers Mothers, most, most vaine;
Some bred by dayes-discourse, or dayes-delight,
Some from the stomacke fuming to the braine.

17

Some from Complexion; Sanguine Constitutions
Will dreame of Maskes, Playes, Revels, Melody:
Some of dead bones, and gastly apparitions,
Which are the true effects of Melancholly.

18

And some are meerly forg'd to private ends,
And (without doubt) some are Propheticke to,
Which gracious God out of his goodnesse sends,
To warne vs what to shun, or what to doe.

19

Or to discouer what in time will come,
Either for priuate, or for publique weale:
Such was my dreame, a true presaging one,
Which to my brothers thus I did reueale:

20

Me thought we were together in the field
Binding of sheaues, Mine riseth, stands vpright,
Your sheaues encompasse mine, but stoope and yeeld,
And honors mine: Dreamer, we know your spright

21

The brethren say: shalt thou rule ouer vs?
Thou Lord it so? Proud boy, it shall not be.
A second dreame I had, and told it thus:
The Sunne, the Moone, the Starres I seem'd to see;

22

The Starres I saw eleu'n in number were,
And all to me (as honouring) did bow,
I told it so, that Iacob did it heare,
Who frown'd vpon me with an angry brow.

23

Must I, your Mother, and your Brethren bee
Your vassals? at your feet (proud boy) be cast?
'Tis more then time (I see) to humble thee,
And lance that windie humour swels so fast.

24

And thus in outward shew old Israel chides,
To coole his spleenfull sons, whose wrath did flame:
But inwardly the double dreame he hides,
And all his thoughts still worke vpon the same.

25

The sonnes of Iacob now in Sechem keepe
Their flockes (the story sayes:) goe boy (quoth he)
See how thy brethren fare, and how the sheepe,
And bring a true relation vnto me.

26

From Hebron sent Ioseph now takes his vvay
To Sechem-ward: vvandring, a man he met,
Of vvhow he doth enquire, if he can say
Ought of his brethren? Is to Dothan set:

27

For thither they would goe, I heard them say:
He giues him thankes, and after them doth goe:
Ioseph take heed, thou vvalk'st a dangerous vvay,
In thine owne blood thou find'st a bosome foe.

28

They spi'd him soone, before he came much nigher,
So Eagle-ey'd is Envie on her prey,
And straight against his life they doe conspire,
And to themselues vvith hatfull scorne they say:

29

Yon comes the Dreamer: now hee's in our power,
Lets cut his throat, then cast him in some pit,
And say some savage beast did him deuoure,
Teach him to dreame: See vvhat vvill come of it.

30

Vile man, thou art a creature vvorse then beast,
If powerfull heau'n doe not restraine thy will,
A Wolfe, a Deu'll doth dwell within thy breast,
Which alwayes stirs thee to extreamest ill.

31

And there's no tinder that's so apt to fire,
As is thy wicked Nature to consent;
Wee're easily drawn to what we doe desire,
And our desires are most to mischiefe bent.

32

'Tis hatefull for one man to kill another,
Though causefull fury doth distract the sence:
But O, vvhat is it then to kill a brother?
And in cold blood, and that vvithout offence?

33

Yea, and to offer at a fathers life,
For out of his deare loue they well might gather,
That eu'n that murdrous blow, that bloody knife
That stab'd the son, might chance to kill the father.

34

But when that minds are bent to doe amisse,
There's no respects that can the same controule,
His other brethren were resolu'd of this,
But Reuben onely had some touch of soule,

35

And therefore this conspiracie withstands,
Vse we no force (quoth he) vse rather wit,
He is our brother, lay no violent hands
Vpon his life, yet cast him in the pit.

36

And thus he said, intending to restore
To Israels armes the comfort of his age,
Direct deniall had inflam'd them more,
There's no opposing to a present rage:

37

What euer stops the current of a streame,
Is swept away with furious violence,
Force is effectlesse gainst a strong extreame:
But yet a man with labour and expence

38

May turne the chanell to another course,
Hee's oft a gayner that can purchase time:
Therefore giue way whilst fury runnes in force,
Which being spent, then on with thy designe.

39

And Reuben meanes to make aduantage so,
Vnto whose motion all the rest consent;
Ioseph meane while is come, but doth not know
(Poore innocent) the drift of their intent.

40

And as men ioyfull of this happy meeting,
They bid him welcome with a false embrace:
As felons true men handle, such their greeting,
And soone (perforce) they strip him of his case.

41

Joseph did more then wonder what they meant,
He knew the parties were his fathers sonnes,
By whom he was in visitation sent,
And with a pleasing Ambassie he comes:

42

He lookes into himselfe, and finds all well,
Good Lord (thought he) what do my brothers mean?
I know no cause should make them thus to swell:
But finding that their fury grew extreame,

43

He speakes them faire, with teares he doth intreat
They would respect his blood, his loue, his youth,
What was his fault (he ask'd) that was so great?
For he knew none that he had done in truth:

44

He tells them, He was none of Esaus brood,
Who with their father stroue eu'n in the vvombe,
But he deriued was from Iacobs blood,
Whose purer streames in all their veines did runne:

45

Yet wrathfull Esau with their Sire incens'd,
Both for the birth-right, and the blessing too,
Did not proceed to murder (though pretenc'd)
And would they act what he forbare to doe?

46

Indeed good Abram (common great grand-sire
Vnto them all) resolu'd to sacrifice
Vnto his God (for he did so require)
His deare-deare Lambe, more deare then his ovvne eyes:

47

But he had speciall Warrant for the deed,
'Twas not a worke of will, his owne deuice,
God did command, vvhy should not Izhak bleed?
Obedience is the truest sacrifice.

48

But they had no Commission for his death,
Where was their Warrant so to spill his blood?
Who sign'd the same? for he receiu'd his breath
From God, to yeeld againe when he thought good.

49

If God requir'd it, hee vvas vvell content,
But 'twas no vvorke of his, 'twas their owne vvill,
Which executed, they would soone repent,
For fearefull justice wayts on fearelesse ill.

50

With that they interrupted his discourse:
Words were but lost (they said) he must not preach,
His part was Patience: So with bruitish force,
(First hauing stript him) without farther speach

51

They cast him straight into the deadly pit:
And then (as well discerning of the state)
In triumph round about the same they sit,
And eat and drinke, and jest at Iosephs fate.

52

Indeed (braue spirits) 'tis a noble act,
Deserving much, and memorable fame,
Laurell at least: well, looke into the fact,
'Twill fill your soules with griefe, your browes with shame.

53

You haue betrayd a young and hopefull Lad,
Alone without the helpe of any other:
The chiefest comfort that his father had,
Who is your father to, and he your brother.

54

Adde more to this, he was an innocent,
Whom causelesse hate so fowly did betray,
In loue and kindnesse by a father sent,
And Messengers are sacred (as men say)

55

Besides, your root grew in the Holy Land,
Neuer before tainted with such a sin,
Izhak will surely grieue (if vnderstand)
To thinke his Nephewes haue so bloody bin.

56

But all this while the Bird that's in the breast,
Is fast asleepe, and no disturbance makes,
'Twas wont to be a Nightingale at least,
But now 'twil proue a Scritch-owle when it wakes.

57

The Frontispice of sinne is fayre in shew,
A pleasant Porter alwayes keepes the gate,
But being in, it is the house of vvoe,
Of feare, of shame, and of all deadly fate.

58

But I must leaue the brothers as they bee,
Who now securely triumph in their wrong,
Distressed Ioseph, I returne to thee,
The subiect of my ill-made, well-meant Song.

59

Me thinkes I see how this poore youth doth lye,
Vnmanly thus, vnnaturally vsed,
Thinking the pit his graue, fixing his eye
On heau'n, that sees, helps innocents abused.

60

Me thinkes I heare him say, and saying weepe,
How vnexampled is my wretchednesse?
My sea of sorrow is so very deepe,
That there's no line to fathom my distresse.

61

O by what name shall I expresse my ill,
It is not banishment that I endure,
I am too truely in my Countrey still;
But banishment were better, more secure.

62

Earth is my Countrey, and in earth I am,
And yet I am not in my proper place:
For I vvas borne to vvalke vpon the same,
And with my feet to trample on her face.

63

Now am I in her armes, or bowels rather,
Into my Mothers vvombe aliue I goe:
O Iacob, my belou'd and louing Father,
Didst thou beget mee, to be swallow'd so?

64

I know that shee embraces all at last,
Shee is the Center vnto vvhich we tend;
But yet with me she makes preposterous hast,
Her right begins but when my life doth end,

65

And then she may with justice seize on mee,
Now she intrudes before her lawfull time:
O common Parent, I doe wrong to thee,
Thou art not to be charged with this crime.

66

Yet Earth is the sole Agent of my ill,
But 'tis indeed a more refined Clay,
'Tis breathing, vvalking Earth (against thy will)
Makes me close prisner in thy wombe this day,

67

Where I am neither liuing, nor yet dead,
And yet am both: I know not what I am:
But this I know, that neuer was there bred
Amongst all men a more disastrous man,

68

Which am depriued of that common good,
That all Mankind, nay very beasts possesse,
Ayre, light, heat, motion, and all hope of food,
Who (though I liue) yet can I not expresse

69

The powers and actes of life: and (which is worse)
Haue able actiue Organs for the same,
And eu'n those blessings doe encrease my curse;
For had I been decrepit, blind, or lame,

70

Benumb'd vvith Palsies, fine w-crackt vvith crampes,
Without all vse of limbes and senses to,
I should not haue been choak'd with Earth's cold dampes,
Nor in my graue haue liu'd as now I do.

71

Nay, eu'n those nobler graces of the mind,
Wit, Vnderstanding, Iudgement, Memory,
Serue all as one sad Index, for to find,
And read my wofull History thereby,

72

And the more actiue-able that they are,
The more they set my suffrings on the racke,
A feeling knowledge is more wretched farre,
Then a dull stupid non-sense, that doth lacke

73

True apprehension of its proper ill,
And therefore slightly entertaines distresse,
Conceiuing sorrowes are most pregnant still,
In ignorance is senselesse happinesse.

74

O how extreamely wretched is that man,
Whose greatest blessings turne vnto his curse?
All his endeauors (doe eu'n what hee can)
Serue but as meanes to make his fortunes worse.

75

But Ioseph, whither doth thy stormy passion
(Which doth indeed but swell thy misery)
Transport thee from thy selfe in such a fashion,
As thou art almost fallen to lunacie?

76

Why dost thou vent thy sorrowes to the earth?
Shee heares thee not: 'Tis bootlesse to complaine,
Besides thou hast no surplusage of breath,
Why doest thou make such waste-thereof in vaine?

77

Rather improue the same vnto the best,
Thinke not on earth, advance thy selfe to heau'n,
If there be hope of helpe, there doth it rest,
And onely by that hand it must be giu'n.

78

And thus resolu'd, this Phenix in his nest,
Not built with Spices and Arabian Gummes,
But of hard flints, with toads & slow-worm's drest,
An humble suppliant to his God becomes.

79

And being in the bowels of the Earth,
The

Antiperistists.

cold thereof augments his inward heat,
Which from his heart breaks forth into his breath,
And thus (sweet incense) mounts to Gods high seat.

80

Father of Heau'n, let not my brothers hate
(Their causelesse hate) prevaile against my blood;
Thou canst their malice and their spleene abate,
And turne their plots and proiects to my good.

81

They are but like to Pipes which doe convey,
The streame of action, that doth flow from thee:
The worke (as 'tis a worke) is thine: but they
(As 'tis a sinne) they onely guiltie be.

82

They are thy instruments, though now they jarre,
And thou canst sweetly tune them, as thou wilt,
Extract my peace from forth this civill warre,
And thine owne glory raise out of their guilt.

83

But if my sinnes (which be in number great)
Haue shut thine eare, and barr'd vp mercies gate,
Forgiue my brothers yet, I thee intreat,
And lay not to their charge their murdrous hate.

84

But let this pit (that now must be my tombe)
Bury my body, and withall, their shame,
O neuer let it to the world be knowne,
That Iacobs sonnes were guiltie of such blame.

85

Especially shew mercie to my Sire,
Let his gray head in peace goe to his graue,
And once againe I humbly thee desire,
Forgiue my brothers, and thy seruant saue.

86

Ioseph, thy body in the pit I find,
(That's earth in earth) out thy more noble part,
Thy purer soule (from earthly drosse refin'd)
Mounts vp to heau'n, to which thou send'st thy heart.

87

In faithfull prayer: an Agent of such trust,
So gracefull, and so pow'rfull to prevaile,
That though thy selfe seemes buried in the dust,
Yet that makes way to heau'n, and will not faile

88

With such effect to prosecute thy cause,
To treat and mediate for thee with thy Lord,
That though thou seem'st eu'n in destructions jawes,
His mighty arme will timely helpe afford.

89

As here a troope of Ishmaelites came by,
Merchants (it seemes) they were, to Egypt bound,
Laden with Balme, and Myrrhe, and spicery,
Such precious things as were in Gilead found.

90

So and more ancient is the Entercourse,
By which one Countrey traffiques with another,
And (as we see) oft times an able Nourse
Supples the wants of a defectiue Mother:

91

So doth one Climate with its natiue wealth
Furnish another, and by such supplyes
We haue most sovereigne Simples for our health,
Pearle, Gold and diuers rich Commodities:

92

For this Worlds deepe vnsounded Architect,
Hath not confin'd all blessings to one Land,
Each Countrey labours vnder some defect,
Which must be helped by anothers hand.

93

And 'tis the chiefest cause, and vse of Trade,
To bring in others vvealth, and vent our owne,
And to that end long Voyages are made,
Eu'n to remotest Climates, erst vnknowne.

94

But what? me thinkes my Muse doth trauaile too,
And bends her selfe vnto a forreine cost,
Returne againe to what thou hast to doe,
Else will thy fruitlesse labour all be lost.

95

When Iudah did these Merchant strangers see,
Some sparke of Pitie, or Hypocrisie
Did seeme to touch his heart: Let vs (quoth he)
Sell yonder Lad, that in the pit doth lie:

96

For, say we kill him, and the murder keepe
Secret as night; Alas, will that availe vs?
His blood will crie when wee are fast asleepe,
And our owne Conscience to the Barre will hale vs.

97

Beside, there is no profit in his blood,
Where by his sale there may arise some gaine,
Let vs respect both his and our owne good,
Such pleasing motions are not made in vaine.

98

Judah prevailes: Out of the pit they draw him,
They play the Merchants, and to Merchants sell
The louely Boy: And when these strangers saw him,
They offred ready Cash, they lik'd so well.

99

Of siluer twentie pieces was the price:
They pay the Money, and they take their ware,
And now the brethren studie a device
To cloake their sinne, that is their chiefest care.

100

At length they doe this stratageme devise,
They staine with blood of a slaine Kid or Goat,
(To cast a mist before their fathers eyes)
The Ensigne of his loue, the partie Coat.

101

That they resolue to bring vnto their Sire,
And say they found it so with blood defil'd:
A murderer will euer prooue a lyer,
How easely is an honest heart beguil'd?

102

Thy I ambe into the field why hast thou sent?
Why made such wolues the keepers of thy sheepe?
Shall we condemne mens actions by th'euent,
When all successe is buried very deepe?

103

Into a fathers heart how could it sinke,
So many sheep-heards Butchers all should be?
How could old Israel once conceiue or thinke,
That such sowre Crabs should grow vpon his tree?

104

The stocke was good that hee had grifted in,
And God had blest it with much goodly fruit,
And as their birth, so had their breeding bin,
His precepts and their practise did not sute.

105

But say he might mistrust some of his sonnes,
Simeon and Leui had been soyl'd in blood;
But this within no reach of reason comes,
That such a generall guilt should taint his brood:

106

That all his sonnes should so conspire in one,
To spill the blood of a poore Innocent:
Where was his Iudah when it should be done?
Without all doubt he neuer would consent.

107

Besides, no cause, nor colour did appeare,
Why they should be so cruell to a brother:
A vertuous soule that in its selfe is cleare,
Is hardly drawne to thinke ill of another.

108

And yet (we see) brother did brother kill
Long before this: Cayne innocent Abel slew:
But sure there was this diffrence twixt their ill,
That was a single Duell: they but two:

109

But this vvas tenne to one: yet I confesse,
One of the tenne was touch'd vnto the heart,
And shew'd at least some sparkes of tendernesse,
And sau'd his life by taking of his part.

110

And yet it seemes he saw him in the pit,
Yea in the pit (the Embleme of his graue)
But blame not Reuben, 'twas a worke of wit,
Or honest wit, vvhose purpose was to saue:

111

For he did meane the lad home to haue led,
Witnesse the rending of his clothes and haire,
When he return'd, found not, suppos'd him dead,
(It seemes, that in the sale he had no share)

112

But when the deed vvas done, he was content
(To hide his brothers shame) to tell a lye,
In vice how easely multitudes assent?
How quickly sinne with sinne doth multiply?

113

Most men haue itching fingers to shed blood,
And to Reuenge as to a Feast they goe,
But vnto actions, honest, fayre, and good,
We creep like snayles, or men benumb'd with snow.

114

But whither strayes my Muse? By this the Boy
Arriues at Egypt, Iacobs heart doth burne,
To heare some tidings of his long-mist Ioy,
And vvith strange tidings (loe) his sonnes returne.

115

He reades their message written in their face,
But cannot reade the tablets of their hearts,
Sad lookes at least, and sighs must seeme to grace
That Tragedie, vvherein they play'd their parts.

116

But (O) wee know that lookes are often lyers,
Who can iudge truely by the outward shew?
We practice how to palliate our desires,
No more of man, but the bare barke we know.

117

And yet it may be they vvere touch'd indeed
With sad remembrance of their fact so soule:
There are some wounds that inwardly doe bleed,
And gastly lookes come from a troubled soule.

118

Vice well may paint her face, and maske her brow,
And looke aloft with a bold strumpets eye:
But Conscience, what a biting vvorme art thou?
Whē thine own thoughts do giue thy looks (the lie)

119

Where is my sonne (quoth Iacob) vvhere is hee?
Why doe I not behold my Iosephs face?
Loe, this is all of him that vve did see,
The brethren sayd, and then they shew'd his case.

120

And vvhen old Israel saw this killing sight,
A wicked beast (he cries) hath slaine my sonne:
Good aged Father, thou art in the right,
It was a beast indeed, a bloodie-one.

121

That monster Envie seyzd vpon thy child,
And with his Harpies Tallons grip'd him so,
That from thy sight thy Ioseph is exild,
And thou art left to waste thine age in woe.

122

Meane while (me thinkes) I see these fratricides
Hanging their heads, as if with sorrow smitten,
False complement, foule actions often hides:
For hearts are seldome in the fore-heads written.

123

Well, though you could deceiue a poore old man,
(Who would not think, that from his Cristall spring
Should flow such muddy streames) goe (if you can)
And blind Heau'ns eye, that sees, marks euery thing,

124

Whose present Iustice (though it seeme to sleepe)
Will surely wake, and call you to the Barre,
The Court of Heau'n a Register doth keepe,
Where all our daily deeds enrolled are:

125

Therefore (dissembling men) goe make your peace,
Prepare (whilst you haue time) for your account,
Let your true teares petition for release:
Teares (against waters nature) vp will mount,

126

Eu'n to the highest Heau'ns, and there will crie
For grace and mercie, gainst your crying sinne:
There is great vertue in a weeping eye,
And teares (dumbe Orators) when you beginne

127

To plead for pardon, seldome sue in vaine,
You are successefull advocates of ours:
Marble is pierc'd with often drops of raine,
How thē is mercy mou'd with such sweet showers?

128

But all this while doth Iacob dwell in teares,
Why should he longer liue now Ioseph's slaine?
Loue (whilst the loued liues) is full of feares,
And dead, then griefe begins his tragique raigne.

129

And the more strong and fervent that it was,
So much the more it breakes forth into passion:
A heart halfe hote breathes forth a cold (alas)
And sutes it selfe in blacke, perhaps for fashion.

130

But the sad soule that's truely touch'd indeed,
With losse of that, which it did hold so deare,
A long time after of that wound doth bleed,
And eu'n till Death the scarre will still appeare.

131

So Iacob will go mourning to his graue,

Gen. 37. 35.

Though all his sonnes and daughters doe their best
To comfort him, but hee'l no comfort haue,
His heart was kild before in Iosephs breast.

132

Good kind old Father, cheare thy selfe againe,
Hope in the bottome of the basket lies,
It may bee that thy Ioseph is not slaine,
Loue is too often full of ielousies:

133

Thou shalt suruiue with these thy teare-drownd eyes
To see thy Ioseph next the Kingly throne,
To see him nurse thee and thy families,
And in a forreine Land make Israel knowne.

134

O the great goodnesse of All-pow'rfull God,
How vvondrously doth he his works dispose?
That he can fetch our comforts from the rod,
And raise our fortunes by the meanes of foes.

135

'Twas not the brothers malice, nor their wit,
That could the Wisedome of high heauen preuent,
They draw the Plot, but God doth build on it,
They serue his ends against their owne intent.

136

They fear'd the Youth should liue to be their Lord,
And therefore made him (as they thought) a slaue:
But their owne tongues those Titles shall afford,
Which they so fear'd, and yet so freely gaue.

137

But stay my Muse, me thinks thou flagg'st the wing,
As if thy plumes were wet with Iacobs raine,
Whose tearefull sorrowes will not let thee sing,
Till he hath dry'd his aged eyes againe.

Timens Deum, non habet quod timeat vlterius.

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.