Divine dialogues, viz. Dive's doom, Sodom's flames and Abraham's faith containing the histories of Dives and Lazarus, the destruction of Sodom, and Abraham's sacrificing his son : to which is added Joseph reviv'd, or, The history of his life and death / by George Lesly ... Lesly, George, d. 1701. 1678 Approx. 214 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 78 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2011-04 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2). A47779 Wing L1174 ESTC R34518 14472695 ocm 14472695 102417

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A47779) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 102417) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1063:2) Divine dialogues, viz. Dive's doom, Sodom's flames and Abraham's faith containing the histories of Dives and Lazarus, the destruction of Sodom, and Abraham's sacrificing his son : to which is added Joseph reviv'd, or, The history of his life and death / by George Lesly ... Lesly, George, d. 1701. [8], 77, [9], 76 p. Printed for Charles Smith ..., London : 1678. "Joseph reviv'd" has special t.p. Imperfect: pages stained and tightly bound with some loss of print. Reproduction of original in the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign Campus). Library.

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 eng Bible -- Paraphrases, English. Bible stories, English. 2020-09-21 Content of 'availability' element changed when EEBO Phase 2 texts came into the public domain 2009-10 Assigned for keying and markup 2009-11 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2010-02 Sampled and proofread 2010-02 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2010-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

DIVINE DIALOGUES.

VIZ. Dives's Doom. Sodom's Flames. and Abraham's Faith.

CONTAINING The Hiſtories of Dives and Lazarus, The Deſtruction of Sodom, And Abraham's Sacrificing his Son.

To which is Added Ioſeph Reviv'd, OR, The Hiſtory of his Life and Death.

By George Leſly, Miniſter of the Goſpel.

Herbert's Church-Porch. A Verſe may find him, who a Sermon flies, And turn delight into a Sacrifice.

LONDON, •• inted for Charles Smith, at the Angel near 〈◊〉 the Inner Temple gate, Fleet-ſtreet. 1678.

To the Right Honourable Charles Earl of Weſtmoreland. &c. Right Honourable,

THough the Author's obſcurity, and unworthineſs of the enſuing Poem, may in Juſtice forbid either your Lordſhips Patronage; yet the ſwift-wing'd fame of your Honour's goodneſs, giving life to my harmleſs ambition, hath emboldened me (though with trembling Heart and Hand) to make this poor addreſs. Not that I have, or dare have, confidence to think it worth your Lordſhip's acceptance, being the frozen conception of one born in a cold Climate; but that the enlivening Beams of your Honour's Patronage, may ſcreen it from that contempt and obloquie it might otherwiſe meet with in a hotter region: On this and no other ſcore is poor Aeſchine's gift preſented to your Lordſhip. Favour therefore noble Sir, my begger with a Serene Aſpect. And if your Honour think him worthy, grant him the regard of being one of the meaneſt of your Lordſhip's Cloſet inhabitants; and for his fidelity, take the word of a Prieſt, he'll neither ſteal nor flatter. His beginning is divine and ſo I hope is his riſe, though he be not adorned with ſo much Eloquent bravery as this Golden-tongu'd age boaſteth of; yet I dare ſay, he will ſtammer out ſo much truth as may inform the Reader, that the Kernel not Shel, the ſubſtance not ſhew of Chriſtian Religion and Piety is to be minded. I might I confeſs have drawn the Matter to a longer Thread, had I not feared that it would neither pleaſe your Honours Eye, nor become the Hand of,

Your Lordſhips, moſt Obedient. George Leſly. Wittring, June 14. 1676.
To the READER.

HAving in a ſmall eſſay declar'd my ſelf a Lover of the Muſes, I have now ventur'd upon the Stage, not ignorant of the fate • hat attends pious Poems; that of the Poet being • o leſs true than common. Pro captu lectoris ha • ent ſua fata libelli. I diſcern a Cloud (I might ſay 〈◊〉 crowd) of Carpers, for they will be of all ſorts. The Learned whom I honour, and would be glad • o imitate, may think my Style antick, Matter • aw, Plots ill-laid and worſe managed, and no • arty well humoured: To them I grant all, becauſe they could better have anſwered wiſe mens expectations in ſuch an enterprize. Yet I hope • hat the expreſſion is neither ſo rude, nor the mat • er ſo indigeſted, (though that be not ſo tumid, • or this ſo taking as the Genius of the preſent Age • equires) but that they may out-live the rigour • f a ſober cenſurer, and prove beneficial to ſome. The Lady that weareth a Ruff with a looſe Gown; • he Gentleman with the high Crown'd Hat, and Wooden heel'd Shooes, may call it plain old Eng • iſh, and good Morality at leaſt.

I know there are Courteous as well as Critical heads, theſe may let my Pamphlet alone; 'tis intended for the other. If the Stage-Poet frown, all I ſhall ſay to him is, Though my Muſe be not tuned to his Key, yet my mind tranſcends his Apollo.

Majora Cano.

But if all men put a fair conſtruction on what they find here, and read, with the ſame intention I wrote it, not only to divert idle hours, but to deter them from ſin, who will not trouble themſelves with an impartial Scrutinity of Holy Wri • for an Antidote; and to promote Divine Faith and Charity among Mortals in this faithleſs and frozen Age. If this I ſay be done, my time (I hope) in Writing, nor theirs in Reading, will be miſpent.

Farewell.
The Perſons. Dives, a wicked Rich man. Pride. Gluttony. his Friends. Huntſman. Servants. Lazarus, a Begger. Poverty. Sickneſs. his Attendants. Death. Sexton. Chirurgions, Maſons, Carvers. Mourners. Angels, good and bad. Abraham. Threnophilus, one who writeth his Epitaph.
The Prologue. THeſe humble Lines to all men cry aloud, Bidding them ſhun Hells horrour Styg'an flood In Heavens Language, ev'ry Neophite, Muſt learn to ſay, mercy Lord, I'm not meet To tread thy Courts; nor caſt a hoping Eye Upon a promiſe, till I do eſpy, My Sins transferred on a Saviour. And then, O then! begins that happy hour. When diſmal Clouds of wrath ſhall diſappear, And Sunſhine mercy overſpread the Sphere Of thy poor weather-beaten Soul, and then, Thy Tongue ſhall bleſs God; thank the trembling pen Of him who rais'd thee out of deepeſt ſleep, E're death ſucceeded; wiſhing thee to keep, The wholeſome Lawes of him who can deſtroy Thy Soul, or give it everlaſting Joy. Theſe are the ends I have propos'd, and do Wiſh they may prove effectual to you. If ſenſe, not ſwelling words have leave to ſpeak, Know, it is you, not yours that I do ſeek.
•• DIVES'S DOOM, OR, The Rich Man's Miſery. Dives, Pride, Servants. Div. WHat Monſter's this li'th at my noble Gate, Bedawb'd with leprous ſpots? what cruel fate Attends the caitife? What unhappy Star Rul'd at his birth: that ſuch his mis'ries are? While happy I, who ſcorn the Divine Powers Am glorious, by Nature's help and yours. Doth not the World behold my heaps of Gold With cov'tous eyes? Pr. Yes, it was always bold. Div. This ſtately Fabrick that is by me made, Do not all men admire? Pr. Yes, moſt have ſaid: You're he, and only he, dare boldly ſay, The life of Man is conſtant holy-day. The earth with all its fulneſs ſmiles on you, And we its deareſt Minions, ſerve you too. Riſe from your rich, embroyder'd Bed, I ſee This petty light would emulator be, Of thoſe reſplendant Rubies that hang round Your Couch: and thoſe, wherewith your Head is crown'd. See! how the num'rous Atoms daunce and touch Your lofty Brow, as if they did think much That their own Brats ſhould have ſo near approach To your admired worth; they but encroach. Riſe up, and let your Purple Red, and White, Exceed the Sun in beauty and delight: Call, call your Waiting-men, that they may dreſs And fit you, for your golden Buſineſs. Div. Who's there? Pr. What! Slaves, do not you hear my Lord? Good Servants always anſwer at firſt word. Serv. We come, what is your Honour's will? Div. That ye Perform your Offices, I'll dreſſed be. Serv. What Cloaths to day, Great Sir, the Heavens frown? Div. What! Purple and fine Linne, worſe I ſcorn. Pr. Good, good immortal Sir! why ſhould you be Serv'd with the Emblems of Mortality? With Ruſſet, Flaxen, or the courſer Stuff, Since your rich Wardrobe can afford enough, To ſpeak you Non-ſuch, bring the Crimſon Suit, (You may at pleaſure have a new recruit.) Fineſt Silk Stockings, Shooes of golden Cloth. With beſt of Beavers (never touch'd by moth;) The largeſt Chain of Gold, and Diamond Rings, Never as yet put on; all other things Are ready. Barber, are your Razors good? Come, ſhave your Maſter, but beware of blood. Powder, Perfume, Pomatum, and the Glaſs, Bring. Let my Lord ſee his admired face. Haſte with the golden Baſon, ſilver Ure, In place of water, Wine put in that's pure; This will not only waſh, but ſtrengthen all The Members of my Lord both great and ſmall: The Scarlet Cloak forget not, Cuffs and Band Of Lace, ſee! how the Fools amazed ſtand: Groom of the Chambers call to make a fire, Perfuming firſt the Room at my deſire; Thus is my bus'neſs done. Now I retire. Gluttony, Dives, Lazarus, Huntſman, Pride, Poverty, Sickneſs. Glut. Hail, glory of the world, and more than Man! Since Brother Pride hath ſerv'd you what he can: I think it's time for you to take advice From me; Drink firſt your Mornings-draught with Spice. Here Sir, accept the Quinteſſence of Blood, Diſtill'd from the Oppreſſed, taſte, it's good; And here the widows houſe, a greater Doſe; The next's a Cordial from the Church's Cloaths: Theſe (I preſume) may ſerve you till you dine, E'r then what you expect, I will deſigne. Div. Thanks deareſt friend, O how this Spirit pleaſes! Sure'tis Nepenthes, cure for all Diſeaſes; It is Ambroſia or Nectarian Juyce, The Gods (themſelves) no better drink can wiſh: I certainly enliv'ned am all o're, My Soul it ſelf is greater than before. Pr. I'me ſure your eyes ſhine brighter than the Sun, Now Thunder ſpeaks, make Earth-quakes, I have done So all that's called Man, thy threatning voice Shall fear, and we your Vaſſals muſt-rejoyce. Glut. Sir, if your greater buſineſs permit: I have one word to ſpeak (if you think fit) This Beauty-broker minds not that the Clock Saith, It is time, your Stomach to unlock. His trimming without food can never pleaſe; You know Dogs only hunger bear for eaſe. Come Sir, your Table's richly furniſhed. Pray give you o're and let my Maſter feed. Here's Manna inſtead of Bread, here's ſprightly Wine, Here's fleſh of all ſorts, delicate and fine; With Sweet-meats ſtore, and all may gratifie And pleaſe my Lord his Palat and his Eye. Div. Was ever Man ſo happy in his friends, As I in mine? their kindneſs never ends; For which on them my Subſtance I'le beſtow, (If that be not ſufficient, Soul too.) Open the Caſement, pray let in the Air; Hark, hark, what voice doth to my Ears repair. Laz. One crumb for God's ſake to a hungry Soul. Div. Go, ask the Huntſman why the Dogs do houl. Laz. One crumb for Heav'ns ſake to the hunger-ſtarv'd. Hunt. 'Tis not the Dogs, a Beggar would be ſerv'd. Div. Prodigious boldneſs! dare that meazled whelp Approach my Parlor-window to ſeek help; Muſt he, a very maſs of loathſomneſs Name God or Heaven? (theſe do diſturb my bleſs) No, Huntſman, whip him while his life doth laſt, And ſay, the rich man ſent that for's repaſt. Huntſ. Come Leprous Raſcal, here's a wyred cord With which I'le ſcourge you, you've diſturb'd my Lord: Thou know'ſt that Heav'n & Earth can ne'r agree, How then ſhould our great Dives ſuffer thee, Who, what he e'r expects enjoyeth here, Though ſuch as Fools are, think there's more elſewhere. Come, I muſt whip thee dead, 'tis his command; Laz. Firſt, let me tell you on what ground you ſtand, Though his great favours ſmile on you this day, To morrow's frowns may call them all away: And then the laſh may be beſtow'd on you: Which heard, the Huntſman (making humble bow) Said, Sir, what are you? Laz. Doſt not plainly ſe • Me, one (to look on) fraught with miſery, View me all o're, if any part be free, I'le not deſire compaſſion from thee. If otherwiſe, take heed thou doſt not wrong My Lord and Maſter, who will be too ſtrong: For thee, and thine. Though he may from me take This painful life, he whom I ſerve, can make It up, with intereſt a hundred fold. (Yet pardon me, if I have been too bold) Huntſ. Make but theſe words clear to my duller brain, And then I will forbear; if I be ſlain In place of thee? What do'ſt thou ſay to this? Laz. My anſwer's ſhort, thou art not far from bliſs, Could'ſt thou but ſee all unto me belongs, Thou would'ſt conclude that all corporeal wrongs Are Skin-deep only, while my better part Rejoyceth always, when my wounds do ſmart, Knowing that without tribulation I never can poſſeſs that ſtation Bought with the blood of an eternal Son: Ponder this well, and then God's will be done. Dives. What mean'th the curſed Block-head to delay His torture thus. Huntſ. I'm charm'd, and what to ſay I know not, for he ſaith, he hath a Soul Impaſſible: if ſo, I dare not foul My hands with blood, for which I anſwer muſt Before the Judgment ſeat of him that's Juſt. Div. Whip him, or die, Rogue, if that will not do, My Dogs are keen, I'le make them eat him too. Huntſ. Sir, I muſt do't, you muſt your ſhoulders bare I will ſtrike eaſie, though I dare not ſpare. Laz. Will not Heav'n woo thee? Is thy Maſters word Sharper then helliſh Torments? Flaming Sword, Mark them about me ſtand: who will defend Thy worſt of bloody blows, and then will ſend Thee to the place prepar'd for crueltie, Where Dives alſo ſhall a ſharer be. Huntſ. A Viſion! I dare not touch this man, Who hath an Angel for his Guardian. Div. A Fool, an Angel, you flew high laſt night, Your brain is dry, eyes dim, there no ſuch ſight; Old Nurſes only ſcare their Babes with ſuch, Believe nothing, but what ye ſee or touch. Call out the Dogs, Rockwood, Old Lady, Ring, And you ſhall ſee that they mind no ſuch thing; Baw, aw, aw. Laz. Peace, gentle Hounds, forbear to do me harm. Huntſ. My Lord, he can the Beagles alſo charm. Sir, do but ſee, how they lie at his feet, Dev. Then call them in; hang him, it is not meet That Wizards (ſuch as he) ſhould have relief From him, who never was ſenſible of grief. Laz. Hang me, why ſo? you ſee I have no ſpell, But that may keep ſuch as your ſelf from hell. Div. He makes me tremble, fill the other cup, When Dinner's o're, I'le ſee him hanged up. Come eat and drink, if this muſt be my doom, I'le loſe no time (I ſwear) before it come. Hell! I have that within me, there's no other Which I reſolve to drown. Come, fill another, A third, a fourth, fift, and then as many more, I'm ſure the Beggar's God hath no ſuch ſtore In his Elizium— Laz. There pretty Dogs, lick on your healthful tongues, Make ſatisfaction for your Maſter's wrongs; But Good my Lord, one morſel to the poor, Div. Peace wretch, you ſhall be hanged at my door. Laz. For God's ſake, Sir, beſtow the crumbs that fall From your full Table on him, who doth call For Chriſt and Pitie's ſake to be relieved, My ſuit is honeſt, Pray Sir, be not grieved. Div. What tell'ſt thou me either of Chriſt, or Pity? This is my Houſe. I'xpect no other City. Laz. But to relieve the Poor's the way to bliſs, Div. Give o're, you Raſcal, there's no Heav'n but this. Here's all that I can wiſh for, or deſire. Laz. No, Herer's no ſcreen to keep thee from Hell-fire; Nor is here any fence 'gainſt powerful Death, Thou, thou, proud Dives, muſt reſign thy breath. Div. Ha! ha! this canting Rogue would terrifie Me alſo with that Mormo, I muſt die. Pr. I wonder, Sir, you have the patience To ſpeak, or look on ſuch, bid drive him hence. Laz. I wonder more that he ſhould dote on thee, A pinted Devil, Soul's great Enemy; While the Almightie's Power upholds the houſe; Thou fawn'ſt and flatter'ſt; but if he let looſe His Inſtruments, Want, Sickneſs, Pain or Age, Thou fleeſt, then men muſt Act, or leave the Stage, Without thy aid, Angel's and Adam's foe Ceaſe thy deluſions, let great Dives go. Pr. Sir, do not ye hear this malicious wretch, 'Tis want of Bread that makes him uſe this fetch To draw you in for this his wants ſupply. Pov. No, thou'rt miſtaken, if he ſtill deny Or give to Lazar, either cannot hinder The wholſom Precepts he ſhall to him tender; For having learn'd content in all Eſtates, He can endure cold Froſts, and Summers heats. Let him be pinch'd with want, abound with wealth, All's welcom. Sickneſs is to him as health: His needy Belly, and theſe noiſome Sores, Are called by him Harbingers to ſtores Of endleſs Joy, the thoughts of which doth raiſe His Soul above the World's Envy or Praiſe. Sick. True, true, dear friend, for when men are brought low By me, they ſtudy only Heav'n to know, Although my various pains diſrobe their faces Of earthly glories, they augment their graces. The true accountant of his days did ſay, Before affliction, I went aſtray. But being touch't by my Morbifick hand, His eyes were open'd, and he ſaw a Land: So full of glory (though a King before) He'll there throw down his Crown, and keep the Dore, Where Sunbeam-Beauty ſat upon his brow So bright, ſo long, that Meſhech, Kedar now Are black and ugly, Heav'n alone can pleaſe, Such are th' effects of this good man's diſeaſe. Pr. Great Sir, this drift you eaſily may 'ſpie, They would have Friendſhip broke 'twixt you and I; Old friends are always ſure, beware of new, There are Religious Cheaters, not a few; Is any one ſo mad to think that heav'n, When ballanced with Gold, can carry ev'n; No Sir, leave theſe to ſuch far-hoping fools, They may be hurt, who meddle with edg'd tools. Div. Their words are vain, thou art to me moſt dear, I hate their perſons, and give o're to hear Their ſavourleſs diſcourſe. Come, let me drink, This babbling makes me melanchol' I think, Pr. Chear up, great Sir, ſhall your couragious Soul Be daunted with the whooping of an Owl; Shall croaking fleſh-crow-ſounds diſturb your breſt, Glut. Here's Lethe water will make you forget, That eyer Lazarus was heard as yet. Div. O! but my head akes, and my ſpirit's dull. Pr. In haſte, of Cordial, bring a brimmer full. Glut. Be of good cheer, this draught is for your good. Div. Oh! oh! oh! oh! Now, now I feel my blood Returning to its Centre; and my eye, The greateſt Object doubl'd doth eſpie. Oh, hold me, all my limbs begin to ſhake; Hold me, O hold, or elſe my poor heart will break. Who's there? O who's there! O what friends have I To leave me thus in my extremity. Who's there? oh! who's there? Laz. All your friends are gone. Div. Canſt thou not help? Laz. Yes, but I • ll let alone, To ſee if your belov'd Fraternity, Dare ſhew their heads to promiſe certainty Of a reprieve. Div. Dear Pride where art thou now? Pr. At hand; but cannot help, I've made a Vow, Never to own, or ſpeak to dying men. Div. Delitious Gluttony, where art thou then? Glut. Here Sir, but all in vain, your paſſage ſtops. Div. May be for Meat, yet bring the gold'n drops, My Eſſences of all ſorts, now bring out. A friend (be damn'd) he never ſtirs a foot. Glut. Why ſhould I, Sir, though I was ſworn to be Yours unto death; now you muſt pard'n me. Div. Ah wretches! who would truſt you. Lazarus, where art thou? Laz. who would be abuſed thus? What think you now of your forenoons diſcourſe? Div. Good Lazarus forbear, that makes me worſe. Laz. Then you muſt die, as once before I ſaid, Though you, and yours then nothing of it made. Div. Nothing ſo true. Oh! oh! what ſight is here, A Sceleton brings in an empty Beer. Death. Dives. Death. Sir, I arreſt you at th' Almighties ſuit. Div. I know him not. What man on Earth dare do't? Death. Do not your out-cries ſpeak you priſoner. Now better words become you, do not err. Div. I ſcorn to pleaſe a Bailiff What's my charge? That I will pay; and thee thy fees at large. How'er 'tis ſtrange that any ſhould me ſue. I never borrower was, nor lender knew. Death. The laſt is true, the firſt a horrid Lye; All that thou haft is borrow'd; for which I Do execute this Warrant without Bail. Div. — Stay, firſt ſet my goods to ſale. Death. Goods, thou haſt none, a judgment paſt long ſince. Div. Judgment, you Rogue, I never ow'd two pence. Death. But you're a Bankrupt and muſt defray All now. Div. What are the Bills that I muſt pay. Death. I have a many, whoſe total's tranſgreſſion. Div. Then bail'd I may be by your own confeſſion; And I can have the beſt in all the Land. Death. No mortal dare your action take in hand. To Goal you muſt. Div. I'll pay before I go. Death. You lived blindly, and you will die ſo. Do not you hear? what? Dea. your own Conſcience Cry, guilty, guilty. Div. Yes, I muſt go hence. Treaſur's farewel, Pride, Gluttony and Pleaſure, This is the laſt, Death giv's me no more leiſure; Elſe I would queſtion you of treachery; For crying, Hail, and yet to Crucifie Your Noble Maſter. Death. Such things ſaid before Might have done good, but now you muſt give o're; Time's Glaſs is almoſt out, Eternit' enters; The worſt of men ſometimes are late repenters; Which can in no caſe mitigate Hell's flame, Death. Haſt'any more to ſay, I ſtrike the ſtroke. Div. No, no, you need not, my heart-veins are broke: Augh—augh—augh—g-o-l-d-dead. Death. Lazarus. Death. You ſmile, and yet you muſt my Captive be Laz. Moſt joyful news (dear friend) then I ſhall ſee An end to all my ling'ring days; in grief, Is any thing more welcome than relief To weather-beaten Seamen, when the Waves Of boyſtrous Neptun claſps his open Jaws About their Veſſel, forc'd by Wind and Tide. Or to the Sould'er when he hath eſpi'd The Enemy triumphing on his ground, With flaming Steel and conqu'ring Trumpet ſound. Unto the hungry Soul what gives more life, Then ſight of Butler's lib'ral hand, and knife, Ready to cut that may his app'tite ſtay; Or to the weary Pilgrim on his way, What's greater joy, than when he ſees, and whe • His friends receive him ſafe return'd agen. Such ſtraits had I in all my life, yet ſtill I ſought to be ſubmiſſive to the will Of my good God, and ſhall I queſt'on now That Strength and Goodneſs, which I ever knew? No, thou art welcome as the Harbinger, To call me hence, where my affections were, All this ſad time that I have liv'd on earth; No man's more willing to reſign his breath. Death. Thou'rt not afraid of death as Dives was? Laz. No Sir, you ſee that I have no ſuch cauſe. Death. You are a debtor too, and't muſt be paid. Laz. Yes unto nature. What my ſins have made Me liable to th'Law when Chriſt did bleed, He ſaid, that from the ſame I ſhould be freed; Whoſe Croſs my Crown, and Blood my Treaſure is; This being ſo, pardon I cannot miſs. Death. Then thou art ready. Laz. Yes, through Heav'ns Grace, And hope e're long to ſee his bleſſed face. • n Glory. Who is that behind you ſtands? Death. It is an Angel into whoſe bleſt hands, You muſt reſign your Soul. Now I muſt ſee The Rich Man's Funeral Solemnitie. Pride, Sexton, Chyrurgions, Maſons, Carvers. Pr. This loathſome, pale-fac'd Death, made me retire • rom my deceaſed Lord, whoſe laſt deſire Was, That you Sexton ring his paſſing Bell; And you Embalmers dreſs his Body well; And that you Maſons out of Marble Rock, • ig for his Statue a ſubſtantial Block, 〈◊〉 length ſev'n foot, breadth four and ſomewhat more, • or's juſt dimenſion (as he was before) • ou'r wiſh'd likewiſe who Mallet uſe and Tool, • o cut th' Effigies while his wandring Soul • oth miriads of years 'bout Lethe Streams • ange, drink and ſleep, until his newer Dreams Remove him to the fair Elizium, Where none but ſuch as my dear Dives come. Sext. Maſter, I went about your juſt Commands, But flaming Spirits flood and held my hands, Saying, That ſince you, you had damn'd his Soul, He was no better if the Bell did towl: Though then at Pray'r, theſe unexpected words With ſtranger Faces and prodigious Swords, Repell'd my ſpirits ſo, as I ſeem'd to be, As fit for my laſt Fun'ral Rite as he. Pr. Well, 'tis no matter, I and Gluttony, In ſpight of Heav'n and Hell will Ringers be. Chyrurg 'ons view the Corps, and ſpare no coſt; We do too little when we do the moſt: For our dead Father Dives, by whoſe breath, All men received either life or death. Though we 'bove all, as Truſtees, muſt our skill Uſe, till we have performed his laſt Will. An't ſhall be done, Artiſts, what ſay you to't? Chyr. Sir, Art availeth not, we cannot do it; The ſparkling Glow-worm yeſterday ſhin'd bright Melts into Rottenneſs: A horrid ſight! Pr. Where is the leaden Coffin? put him in. Chyr. Nor this Sir, can we do, he hath no skin. His fleſh and bones conſume, nothing remains: So ſave your Gold, good Sir, as we our pains. Pr. Is't uſual for dead men to do ſo. Chyr. No, no, it only ſpeaks where he's to go. Pr. Why? He's already in th' Elizian Groves. Chyr. Be not deceiv'd, Heav'n no corrupt'on love Pr. And do you truly think his ſtate is bad. Chyr. We do ſo truly, and think your's as ſad Without Repentance. Pr. Now I know ye rave. Chyr. We knew what we ſhould have, no more we crave. Pr. Maſons, where is the Stone that I beſpoke For's Statue? Maſ. Coming hither it was broke. Pr. I think we ſhall be croſs'd in each deſign. Maſ. We ne're were ſo till now, 'tis a bad ſign. Pr. I never heard ſo much of theſe till now. Maſ. Such om 'nous things may make a proud man bow. Pr. Bow! with a Pox! then what muſt the moſt do. Maſ. We anſwer ſoon, learn to be humble too. Pr. Be gon, ye Rogues, about your buſineſs. Maſ. From ſuch as you, we ne're expected leſs. Pr. Carvers, have you no ſuch already made? Car. Yes; but we muſt take pains about the head; which we with artificial hairs muſt cover, And in his hands put bags of Gold however. Now Sir, it's done according to your mind. Pr. Come take your Mony, I'll have that's behind. Mourners. Thrice curſed be the day and Fate, That did our bliſs obliterate; Our golden Mine is now ſhut up; Its owner drinks of Styg'an Cup; While we his Votaries do groan, Being depriv'd of him, alone, From whom we all our living had, All but his Flatter'rs wanted bread: His Friends (though few) he loved well; Since for them he would go to Hell; Where we muſt leave him, and repent, E're our laſt glaſs of time be ſpent; Or elſe we muſt expect that Doom, To which he is too ſurely come, For his neglect of Pietie, Of which he would no lover be: Our Tears are vain; then let's give o're, And take poſſeſſion of his ſtore; It is ſufficient that his Glory, Will live as long as Sacred Story; And name of Dives will be ſweet, To every earthly Proſelyte, Who make their God of gilded clay, Till Heav'n, as him, ſweep them away: There needs no Tomb, moſt Rich Mens Purſes, Wrap him, as Children, by their Nurſes. Death, Angel, Lazarus. Death. Friend Lazarus, how like you my return • Laz. Well, though your abſence gave me cauſe to mourn. Had not the glor'ous Light you left behind, Made my paſt mis'ries vaniſh from my mind. Death. Doth not the Doom of the Rich Man affright Thy feeble fleſh. Laz. Ne're while I ſee this Light; Which I am ſure is earneſt of that bliſs I ſhall receive when come where Jeſus is. Keep me no longer here, I am moſt willing; Thou canſt not hurt me having loſt thy Sting. Speaketh to the Angel. And you, if ſent from God, to be my Guide, Hold faſt, dark night, rough way, may make me ſlide. Ang. Joy of thy Lord, I'm come for that ſame end, To bring thee ſafe to Heav'n, he did me ſend: Whoſe will I always cheerfully obey: Yet e're we take our wing, pray let us ſtay, And talk of your Adventur's here below: This I deſire. Laz. I'll tell you what I know. What entertainment had you all this time On earth? Laz. As Cynthia▪ now Full, now Prime. Or as bright Phebus, whoſe reſplendant Rays, Give heat and light to the renewed days, And yet are ſometimes wrapt in Clouds and Miſt, That if he ſhine or not, it is not gueſt; Or when pale Luna overſhades his face, So various was my ſtate, while in this place. Ang. Is there not then 'mong Mortals difference? Laz. Yes, that's one cauſe, for which I would go hence. Some ſwim in pleaſure, ſome are drown'd in want, Though this laſt happens where true Grace is ſcant. The Rich oppreſs the Poor, the fat devour The lean, and yet this laſteth not an hour, Being compared with Eternity. Ang. Do not ſome ſay, that they ſhall never dy? Laz. Yes, ſo ſaid the Rich Man but yeſterday. Now I am almoſt weary of my ſtay; For though I'm glad to ſee your glorious light, I long to ſee my God, who ſhines more bright; Into whoſe preſence I deſire to be. Ang. I have yet one word more to ſay to thee. What were thy thoughts of Heav'n when thy diſtreſs And ſores were grievous? Laz. You may eas'ly gueſs. I never yet deſpair'd of Shaddai's help, Though men look'd on me as a leprous whelp. Ang. And think'ſt thou that ſuch Miſers come to bliſs? Laz. The Scripture ſaith, To ſuch God's Promiſe is. Ang. Truſt me thou dar'ſt then with thy happy Soul. Laz. Why ſhould I fear? Since you dare not controul Your Makers Mandat; who deſires that ye Ne • r leave my better part, till plac'd it be In Abram's boſom, where I ſhall inherit More than Eliſha's or Elia's ſpirit. Ang. This pleaſeth well. What thy laſt words may be, I'll hear of Mankinds treple Enemy. And ſo go hence: The Fleſh, the World, and Hell, Are thoſe I mean; b'ing ſuch ſince Adam fell. Laz. The Devil a Lyar is, whom I defie, And ever did, you are my witneſs, by His black ſuggeſts, that did my Maker rob Of's Glory; I deſpis'd, and ſhar'd with Job, In's dunghil ſcabs, and rather than commit A wilful treſpaſs, I would to the pit Have gone alive, he hath a murd'ring mind, Although he flatter, let him get behind. As for the alluring world, th' Almighty knows, It never received ought of me, it owes Me many common favours, fare it well; 'Twas better want them, then have gone to Hell. Poor fleſh, I am a debtor unto thee; Wait but a while, my Lord will ſatisfie With Intereſt, what e'r I took on ſcore, Enough for all; thou ſhalt revive: Nay more, Thou ſhalt be glorifi'd with Chriſt thy Head, At Day of Judgment, when he 'wakes the dead. Ang. This true Confeſſion, makes the glorious Earth is not worthy of thee, come with us: Death ſtrike him gently, he's the adopted Son Of Abram, where I leave him, and have done. Abraham. Lazarus. Dives. Abr. Welcome dear Child, now I am filld with joy, To ſee thee trample all did thee annoy. 'Tis Faith, and Hope, and Love that helpt thee hither: Two of which ceaſe, the laſt ſhall never wither. It's Summer always here, here's no Hail-ſhowers, To ſtock the fruit once ſet, or blaſt the Flowers. Of bliſs eteanal. Pray look upon me, My faithful Son, whom I have long'd to ſee; Here take this Crown, this Royal Diadem, Adron that head, which formerly with ſhame Lay on the Dunghil. Let thy ſpotted skin Henceforth be glorious, as thy Soul within. Prepare thine ears for the unceſſant noiſe Of Saints and Angels, who do all rejoyce At thy admiſſion to this Sacred Quire, Where all their Hymn's are fraught with Divine fire; And none do ſing of any thing but love. That's our eternal bus'neſs now above. Laz. All praiſe to the Almighty, through whoſe Grace, I fought the good fight and have won the race. Abr. Raiſe thy Immortal Voice another Key. Thou muſt ſing Halelujahs night and day For ever— La. Halelujah — Devil. Did my dark chains and torments fierce permit, I ſhould rejoyce to ſee Great Dives ſit Here pin'd with anguiſh thirſt, and cold, While my dear Friends conſume his ill got Gold. How fare you Sir? How like ye your remove? The Scene is alter'd, ſince you were above. Div. Ah me! What ruful ſights? what ſqualid ſhapes, Of Bears, and Wolves, and Tygers, ugly Apes, Devouring Vulturs; and that which is worſe, Damn'd Furies foaming under Heav'ns curſe. Fire, fire, O fire! dreadful, ſulphureous. Devil. Such entertainment you muſt have with us. Dives. I freeze, I fry, and cannot get way. Devil. Stay, firſt for Purple, and fine Linnen pay. You took on truſt; your quinteſſence of blood Muſt be exchanged for the Styg'an flood. The pleaſure you have had for ſome few years, Is ended, after which eternal tears Muſt have ſucceſſion. Div. O! what glorious light Do I ſee, ſhining through the gloomy night; And place, with faireſt Diamonds and Pearls Beſet and floored, fit for none but Earls, Or ſuch as I once was. What Sun-like Sage Is that? his face beſpeaks him of great age. And who is that li'th in his glor'ous arms? Sure, 'tis ſome Cupid, who fond nature charms. Devil. Nothing but Nature yet, I thought this load Of chains might have aſſur'd there was a God, Whoſe habitation is the place you ſee. Dives. Then curſt be they, who have deceived me. Devil. That ancien's Abr'am, and that glorious youth In's happy arms is Lazarus, whoſe mouth You once forbid to ſhew his wretched caſe, Or give the leaſt relief Div. Alas! alas! Will neither of them help me, if I cry. Devil. 'Twill but augment your torment, you may try. Dives. Father, dear Father Abram, eaſe your Son, Who li'th in torment, elſe he is undon. My miſery's ſo great, I cannot tell: But ah! too ſure it is the fire of Hell, Which heretofore none could make me believe; Yet deareſt Father (if you can) relieve Me from this torment, reach thy helping hand; If not, ſend Lazarus; who thy Command is ready to obey, and let him dip In cooling water, but his fingers tip, Which he upon my ſcorched tongue may drain, To quench this flame, which I cannot ſuſtain. Abr. Son be content, time was thou wouldſt not ſee, (Without diſdain) this poor man's miſerie. Nor wouldeſt give the crumbs fell from thy Table, To ſatisfie his Soul; when thou waſt able, His fortunes to have rais'd, to ſuch a pitch, That none but Dives might have been more rich: Then thou thy portion hadſt while wretched he, Lay in diſtreſs; unpitied by thee. Doſt not remember theſe things? Div. Yes, O Yes! Is this the cauſe I am depriv'd of bliſs? Abr. And good cauſe too, wherefore give o're to grieve, There's none in Heav'n or Earth can thee relieve. A fixed Gulf, betwixt us ever ſhall Unmoved ſtand; God's Juſtice, brazen wall; So that no heir of Heav'n can come to thee, Nor thou to them, for eaſe of miſery. Dives. Then pray you ſend him to my Father's houſe, I have five Brethren there, are very looſe; They're alſo feeding fat for this ſad ſlaughter. Abr. Tuſh, News from Heav'n, will only make their laughter. For they who drowned are in earthly pleaſure; Have this hard fate, ne • re to repent at leiſure; Or mend that is amiſs, but ſpend their day, In eating, drinking, riſing up to play, Till they are fall'n aſleep: Their golden Dreams, • re never well interpreted, till Streams Of fire and brimſtone from the higher powers, Rain on their heads for ever. Div. O, theſe Showers Would I were turned to ſome Marble Rock, Or had at firſt been made a ſenſleſs Block. Oh! that great hills and mountains might us ſwallow; Or that (like Bruits) I might for ever wallow On Earth, and have no other 'count to make. Abr. Give o're, give o're, and theſe your torments take, A • from a juſt, and ſin-revenging God, Who will'd you once to bear a lighter load. Div. O! but my Brethren, Sir, know not my Doom. Abr. They'll know't (I doubt) too ſoon, when they are come To that ſame place of torment where you are. Div. Then ſend, O ſend, Sir, e're they go too far. Is not the gate of Heav'n ope' while they live? They may repent, and God their ſins forgive. Abr. 'Tis but in vain to ſend one from the dead, Se'ing he can ſay no more, than may be read In Moſes, Iſai'▪ weeping Jeremie, And all the reſt whoſe Inſpirations be Divine. Then curſed wretch, thou muſt give o're To cry, bidding Adieu for evermore To Heav'n, where Lazarus muſt now remain With me, and thou in Hell's tormenting pain.
The Rich Man's EPITAPH, FOR The EPILOGUE. HEre li'th the Man, who never did Good while he liv • d, nor Vice forbid: Here li'th the Man, who to his Wealth, Truſted his Souls and Bodies health: Here li'th the Man, who out of meaſure, Glutted himſelf with beaſtly pleaſure; For which his hungry Soul and dry, Is doom'd eternally to fry In Hell. A warning unto thoſe, Who in baſe Earth their truſt repoſe. His Sentence paſt; let ſuch give o're, God's juſt ſtill, as he was before.

Avertat Deus hoc malum à nobis.

FINIS.

FIRE And Brimſtone; OR, THE DESTRUCTION OF Sodom.

Except ye repent, ye ſhall all likewiſe periſh. Luk. 13.3.
The Perſons. Prologus. Angel. God. Angels of God. Abraham. Sarah. Sodomites. Lot. Lot's Sons. Devil. Lot's Wife. Chorus.
Prologus. IF any think my Buskin is too much, Like to Satyr; know, 'tis not a touch: If the Phyſitian can a Gangrene kill, He muſt uſe Corroſives as well as skill; Elſe putrid matter will infeſt the part That's ſound, till it hath ſeized on the heart: This is too often ſeen to be diſapprov'd; Let not the courteous Reader then be mov'd, If I have laid the Axe to the Tree's root, Thinking to fell it. O! that I could do't. If Lot's Wife, who was led by Angel's hand, Scap'd not God's Judgment, but doth Pillar stand Of Salt. And ſeeing Justice doth begin With Houſe of God, must we not all fear ſin? That Adam out of Paradice did cast; And after him, drown'd the old World at last; That ſlaved Iſrael four hundred years; And coſts each Heav'n-born Child much briny tears: What ſay I, tears? for it the Son of God Sweat drops of blood, and bore a heavy load Of wood, for's Croſs, and then reſign'd his breath, That who believes might not taſte ſecond death. For it is Sodom burnt, our preſent Theme; We must beware of Sin, or bear the blame. If we give way, this Circe will bewitch The beſt. The fire's hot made of wood & pitch But hotter far, that's kindled by the breath Of Sin-revenging God, eternal death.
FIRE and BRIMSTONE; OR, The Deſtruction of Sodom. Angel, God, Abraham, Sarah, Angels. BEhold, how Sodom ſwaggers in its Pride, And Luſt, and Gluttony! none is eſpied, That thoughts of Heaven have; or bowe a knee: But one poor Stranger, who adoreth me. My Servant Lot: whoſe holy Soul they vex; Becauſe there's no diſtinction made of Sex Nor age, But all promiſcuouſly do go, Like Goats and Leopards that all they may know Each other. Come, we will go down and ſee, Thoſe horrid facts; whoſe cry has come to me. I am the Holy One who ſit above, My purer Eye cannot ſuch things approve. The Soul that ſinneth, it ſhall ſurely die. Awake my Juſt revenge; I'le down and try: If they my handy work who are but clay, Dare quarrel with their Potter and ſay nay: But we will do it. Who can us controul? What profiteth Religion, ſince the Soul Is mortal as our fleſh and cannot riſe? Let's heap up ſin on ſin, and heav'n deſpiſe. Put on your walking habits: Let us go And view the place, to ſee if it be ſo. Yet there's a truſty Friend lives in our way By Mamre Grove: there we muſt make ſome ſtay. See, Yonder is the place where Sun doth ſhine, Gilding the Oakes whoſe tops ſeem to encline: To bid us welcome — Angels. Eternal Son, true Day-Star from on high, It is our honour that we may draw nigh So great a Light, and be employ'd by thee; To execute thy Will we ready be. Ab. Sarah, Sa: My Lord. Ab. Do'ſt not ſee ſtrangers come? Sa. I do, I do, 'tis well you were at home. Ab. Their gate beſpeaks them great: I'le run and ſee, Walking on foot perhaps they weary be. Al-hail my Lord, if I have favour found With thee: paſs not from off thy ſervant's ground, Untill a little water fetched be To waſh your Feet, and you under this Tree Reſt for a while, it being almoſt noon; You ſhall go on as ſoon as Dinner's done: For therefore to your ſervant are ye come— Ang. 'Tis true! go quickly, do as thou haſt ſaid. Ab. Up my dear Sarah now I lack thine aid, Of Meal three meaſures thou ſhalt dreſs: & knead, Cakes on the hearth make of it, we want bread; And I my ſelf will bring a fatted Calf: Out of the herd; young man dreſs you its half. Bring Milk and Butter hither unto me: With Veal both roaſt and boil'd; my Lord you ſee Your homely dinner, Let your Friends take place. Where the Almighty eats, there needs no grace. Accept ſuch things as you are pleas'd to ſend To your poor Servant who will you attend. Ang. Theſe Favours I will certainly requite Upon thee and thy Wife who's out of ſight. Where is thy Sarah? Is ſhe not at home? Ab. Yes, in the Tent. Ang. Then why did ſhe not come? For I intend, about this time next year To come again, and ſhe ſhall ſurely bear A Son: though Abraham be old, and ſhe Have no fore-runner of a pregnancie. Sar. Ha, ha, Is not this likely to be true? Have I been thus long Married to you, Without Conception? ſhall my nutted Breaſt; And barren Womb procure a cleanſing Feaſt? No, I ſhall ſooner far expect my grave: Than that ſuch Pleaſure you and I ſhould have. Ang. Hark; Sarah laughs, good Abra'm tell me why? She cannot be thy Wife; if ſhe deny That the Almighty can all Natur's laws Reverſe, dilate, contract as he ſee's cauſe. Or thinketh ſhe that any thing on Earth Can be too hard for him; who gave all breath? Once more I ſay I will return, and ſhe, This time next Year, ſhall Joyful Mother be. Sar. Alas! What ſhall I do? he did me ſpie Laughing, yet Woman-like I will denie, I did not laugh. Ang. Nay, but thou didſt, forbear: He cannot be deceiv'd who's Eye and Ear. Ariſe, Let us go hence: a fearful ſtink Comes to my noſtrils, from that filthy ſink, Whoſe crying ſins do haſten its decay. Ab. Pray let your Servant bring you on your way. Ang. Well Abraham, ſince thou haſt ſerved me So faithfully, nothing ſhall hidden be, Of all that I am now about to do, Here I will all relate before I go. For thou ſhalt ſurely a great Nation be: And all the World ſhall bleſſed be in thee, The Sin of Sodom's great, its dreadful Cry Hath long ſince ſounded in my Ears, now I Am come to ſee: armed an angry Judge, Without repentance there is no refuge: But Fire and Brimſtone from the Lord ſhall fall; And ſhall conſume thoſe curſed Cities all. Ab. Wilt thou not then the righteous in it ſpare? Ang. Thou know'ſt long ſince that great my Mercies are. Ab. If there be Fifty righteous in the place, Shall not thy Juſtice run a ſlower pace? Art thou not of the World the holy Judge? If thou do otherwayes 'twill make men grudge: We do confeſs thou'rt infinit in Might: Yet let the Judge of all the World do right. Ang. It Fifty in it be I will return: And for their ſakes, I'le not at this time burn The Cities— Ab. Since thou a gracious Ear do'ſt to me lend, Who am but duſt and aſhes, I'le yet ſpend Some of the breath thou giv'ſt me, and deſire, That if there want five, yet that dreadful fire May not be kindled. Ang. If but five there lack Of fifty, I'le not burn it for their ſake. Ab. What if but fourty, Lord, what wilt thou do? Ang. For fourtie's ſake I'le ſpare the Cities too. Ab. I plead for mercy, let not anger burn: If thirty there be found, wilt thou return? Ang. Yes. Ab. But if twenty Juſti,Juſt Perſons. Juſt, do there remain? Ang. For twentie's ſake, I alſo will refrain. Ab. Let not my Lord be angry, this once more I'le ſpeak, What if you find but half a ſcore? Speak Lord, a grac'ous anſwer let me hear. Ang. Ev'n for Ten's ſake I alſo will forbear. Now get thee home, I'le make no more delay, The Angels at Lot's houſe do for me ſtay. Chorus. Mamre from henceforth let thy grove Renowned be, becauſe Jehove Daigned to reſt in thy cool ſhade, And with our Maſter Dinner had. Cake, Milk and Butter: ſav'ry meat, Two Angels with their Lord did eat. Which done, Jehovah did requite Old Abram's kindneſs: whoſe delight Is to refreſh the weary Stranger, And to relieve the weak from danger. The fear of God he alwayes keeps Sure, when he either wakes or ſleeps. El-Shaddai in his faithful Eye, Is all-ſufficient Treaſurie. He with the Lord a Cov'nant made, And he with him, Jehovah ſaid: Walk me before and perfect be, Then I no good will hold from thee. Of Children thou complains, thy Wife, According to the time of life: At my return a Son ſhall bear, To uſher in the next new Year. Our Miſtreſs needs not doubt the thing, That's promiſed by Salem's King. Let her laugh on, but not diſtruſt, What Heaven ſayes fulfilled muſt Be, ſee how on her Marble face, A rich Vermilion taketh place; The Roſe and Lilie are at ſtrife, Who ſhall have moſt in Abram's Wife: Her ſhaking hands and feeble knees, Put on their youthful Liveries. And is not Abram altered, Since t'other day the Angels fed At's Table? Doth not ev'ry feature In's Face, declare a God of Nature? Quick eye, quick ears, and nimble feet, Strong legs and armes, do not ye ſee't? 'Tis ſaid that Eggles onely do Renew their age ••• Abra'm too. Go happy Couple; let your new Rais'd vigour unto the World ſhew A reſurrection from the dead, In both of you by promis'd ſeed. Iſma'l thou muſt give o're to hope, That thou ſhalt be our Fam'lies prop: Thy Mother Hagar muſt forbear, O're Abra'ms Wife to domineer. It is not fit that hand-maid-drudges, Should be of Miſtris actions Judges. If ſhe intends to live in eaſe, She muſt her grieved Miſtriſs pleaſe: And thou thy unborn Brother ſerve, Or be caſt out o'th' houſe and ſtarve; For we are ſure to have an Heir; Of whoſe Fleſh God will take a ſhare: And in it die that we may live, To whom, Let's ever praiſes give. Angels, Lot, Lot's Wife. Ang. Father pray tell us what is this Town's name? Lot. 'Tis ſinful Sodom, too well known by fame, That hath already flown o're earth to heav'n. Ang. Pray what a clock? Lot. My Lords 'tis almoſt Ev'n. Ang. Can ſtrangers any entertainment find? Lot. Yes Sir with me (if you to ſtay have mind) Ang. Is there no houſe in Town but yours that's civil? Lot. None, none My Lords, all imitate the Devil. Ang. Then what of this bad City will become? Lot. If God be Juſt 'twil have a ſudden doom. Ang. What Judgment's fitteſt think'ſt thou for their Sin? Lot. Brimſtone and fire ſuits beſt thoſe burn'd within: With luſt unnat'ral, Ang. If it ſhould be ſo, What wilt thou do? think'ſt thou to periſh too? Lot. No Sir, I do not, he whom I do ſerve, Will ſend his holy Angels to preſerve Me; as from ſin, ſo from the puniſhment, That from the Heav'ns on Sodom will be ſent. My Lords come in, we'll talk more in the houſe, For when night comes our ſtreets are very looſe. You ſhall this once take harbour here with me, Nor ſhall you leave my Cottage till you ſee Next morning Sun. Here's water, waſh your feet, My Wife and Daughters ſhall take care for meat. Ang. Sir your good nature merits well of us: Yet will the Street be better than the houſe, There we will ſtay. Lot. My Lords that muſt not be: You ſhall have welcome, pray turn in with me, The ends I have upon you are but civil, Then if I urge, you muſt not take it evil. This is a curſed Town, and if you be Wrong'd in the ſtreet, the blame will lye on me. Wife try thy skill, ſee if thou canſt perſwade Theſe men; we never yet ſuch Lodgers had. If God in likeneſs of a man may be, The man that ſpeaketh moſt muſt needs be he. Lot's Wife. Husband were I ſuch as the Town affords, I might invite them with ſuch Sugar'd words, As neither I nor they I think approve; Flatt'ry I hate, if they become in Love, They will not paſs our Door; come good my Lords, My civil actions ſhall confirm my words. Ang. Your courteous invitations take a place With us. Lot. My Lords I'm glad I have found grace, To Lodge ſuch perſons as you ſeem to be, And that you'll eat ſuch victuals as you ſee. Chorus. Our hearts are griev'd to ſee Thoſe Men in Jeopardy: Who Lodge with Father Lot, On him will lye a blot, Who doth them entertain: If they ſhall now ſuſtaine Any harm in the night, By the Sodomits might. The Town already knows, And have made bitter vows: That before the Sun riſe They will ſecure the prize; If Heav'n come to their aid, They will not be affraid. Where Luſt doth rage and ſwell, There is no thought of Hell. No Monſters liker unto Devills be, Than men giv'n up to filthy Sodomie. Sodomites, Lots Sons, Lot, Angels. Sod. A prize, a prize! run, call the Town together, The beauties of World are now come hither: Come let's not loſe this opportunity, At Lot the ſtranger's Houſe, the Gallants lye. How canſt thou tell? I ſaw them enter in; Sons. Such perſons to defile 'twill be a Sin: Beſides the old man hath perſwaded them To ſtay, if this be done; he'll bear the blame, Forbear. Sod. You punies, you'l be Godly too, Is this the way you do his daughters woo? Son. And we would have you ſo, could we perſwade. Sod. Ha, ſee how like they grow to their old Dad; Go get you hence, we'll make no more delay. Give o're to plead, or you ſhall dearly pay For your ſobriety; come out ye Rogue, Bring forth theſe ſtrangers, do not time prorogue: We hear they're beauties, 'tis but what they owe, Being within our Town, we muſt them know. See how he ſhuckes, old Raſcal do not dally With us, nor time; ſee'ſt not the City rally About thy Houſe? 'tis but in vain to think, That thou ſhalt eat our Bread or drink our Drink, And not ſubmit thy ſelf unto our Will. Lot. All your requeſts (if juſt) I will fulfill. I hope theſe boyſt' rous words are all but Jeſts. Sod. Confounded Dog, bring forth thy handſome Gueſts, Or by our great God Priapus we ſwear, That we thy Body will in pieces tear. Lot. My Lords, this rudeneſs is not ſtrange to me, Be not diſmaid, I will go out and ſee It my grave preſence can make them give o're, However after me I'le ſhut the Door. Brethren I do not underſtand your humour, What is the cauſe that ye make ſuch a rumour I'th' ſtreet at this time, and about my Door? Neighbours be rul'd, this wickedneſs give o're. And if your Beaſtly luſt cannot refrain, But that theſe ſtrangers you with ſin would ſtain; See here two Maids of mine who Virgins be, Uſe them at pleaſure, and let theſe go free. Sod. Rogue, runagate, ſlave, think not that thou muſt, Make ſuch exchanges to reſtrain our Luſt. Who made the'a Judge? If we be rul'd by thee, Then muſt we bid adieu to Buggary. But hold, ſtand back, or we will break the Door. Lot. Help, help, O help, theſe Villains preſs me ſore. Sod. Hark, this mad fellow thinks to have Reſcue, Whence muſt it be? from Heav'n I warrant you Heav'n! help, indeed of that we're not afraid, Though it and Hell combine; their feeble aid Cannot reprieve the Priſoners within, We are not ſcar'd with puniſhment of ſin. There Bald-pate God-adoring Raſcal, take yo • that; ſtrikes him How pretily he looks in's dimpl'd Hat? Now open to us.— ſtrikes again. Ang. Belov'd of Heav'n, we ſee thy willingneſs, To curb theſe wretches, and our grief redreſs; Come in to us, and we'll ſecure the Door; Blindneſs ſhall make theſe Brands of Hell give o're. Sod. He is a Devil, he'th bewitched me, And me, and me, and me, and me, and me. I'm blind, I'm blind, and cannot find the Door, By Heav'n nor I, I fear we muſt give o're. We ſee their God can help them in a ſtrait, And cool our courage; let us leave his Gate, Begging him pardon; for if we ſtand ſtill, He that hath ſtruck us blind can alſo kill. Not I, for though I ſee not, I can fell; And if I catch the old knave, I will deal Worſe with him than before: In ſpite of Heav'n, We may in time with him alſo be ev'n; For if he does not ope our Eyes again, He and all his to morrow ſhall be ſlain. Ang. Beſides thy Family, do'ſt any pity, Daughters, or Sons-in-Law, within this City? • f any; call them, thoſe we'll not anoy: But all the City elſe we will deſtroy, Becauſe the cry is wax'n great, we muſt Reduce all Living in it into duſt. Lot. Sons now take warning, get you from this place Quickly, the Sun ſhall not twice run his race From Eaſt, to Weſt, before deſtruction ſhall, (Reward of luſt) on wicked Sodom fall. God ſaith it, and I'm ſure it will be done, Sons if ye love your lives get ready ſoon, To go with me— Sons. Sir, this you told all of us long ago, And yet nothing is come to paſs you know; You old and fearful are, your brain is dry, Before that it be ſo, we ſhall eſpy, Unuſual ſignes from Heav'n if any be, Such things we may believe, but never thee. Ang. Lot, God give thee good morrow, doſt not ſpy. The Sun in this Horizon mounting high? Haſt, get thee hence, with Daughters, Sons and Wife, Nothing that ſtayes behind ſhall keep in life. You muſt out of the City ſpeedily, Leſt for its ſin you all conſumed be. Come there's no time to ſtay or look about, He that would not be burnt muſt get him out. Why do you linger? pray give me your hand. Yours Madam, pray give me, we cannot ſtand; Your God is merciful and full of pity, And hath ſent us to bring you out o'th' City. Ang. Deus. Scape for thy life, ſhake off all Worldly cares, When God afflicts, all ſuch things are but ſnares; Truſt not to humane help, 'tis I who fight, And nothing's able to reſiſt my might. Go look ſtreight forward, if thou turn thy back, Or any that is thine, then I will make Thee feel the ſmart of my afflicting Rod. Fly to the Mountains, leſt Almighty God Conſume thee with the City. Lot. Not ſo Lord, Since I believe according to thy word, And have found grace in ſaving of my Life, As likewiſe have theſe two poor Girls and Wife. Into the Mountains Lord, I cannot fly, • eſt there ſome evil take me, and I dye; Add to thy former favours out of pity, Leave for to flye unto the neighb'ring City; Tis but a little one, my Lord it give Into thy Servant, and his Soul ſhall Live. Ang. Dear friend, to ſhew thee what reſpect I bear, • o thee and all thy Servants, this I hear, • nd grant what thou deſireſt; flye in haſt • o thy entreated ſhelter: while thou'rt paſt • he City Wall, my powerful hands are bound With cords of Love, while thou art on this ground Although my Juſt revenge doth burn and chafe • can do nothing, till thou art come ſafe • o Zoar.— Chorus. Curs'd be the day when we, This ſtranger firſt did ſee. Curs'd be the mouth that ſpake To us, that we ſhould take This wretch within our Walls, Who Studieth our falls. And hath with Heav • n conſpir'd, That Sodom may be fir'd: There is no remedy, We muſt deſtroyed be. Come, yet let's endeavour, To get the Rogues favour. If he will but once pray, We're ſure Heav'n will ſtay His hand, and will revoke This ſad and fatal ſtroke. Riſe, let us to his Gate, (Perhaps it's not too late) And give his gueſts good words, The beſt Sodom affords: If theſe do not take place, Then there will be no ſpace Between us and the fire: Taugh! I muſt now retire, Here's ſuch a loathſome ſmell, That nothing (if not Hell) Can the ſame parallel. Angel-God, Sodomits, Devil, Lot, Lot's Wife. Ang. The Sun ſhines bright, and Lot almoſt at home In Zoar, now muſt Sodom have its doom; Gomorah alſo Admah and Zeboim, The fifth, I will reſerve as yet for him. Awake my Juſtice, and let dreadful ſtreams, Of Fre and Brimſtone darken the Sun-beams; Once more let Heav'ns Windows open'd be, That Lot may fire (as Noah water) ſee. Shut up thoſe bowells full of mercy are, And neither young nor old i'th'Cities ſpare. Raiſe thickeſt Smoak, and make a ſulph'rous ſmell, That living, they may know the paines of Hell. Perhaps 't may warn all thoſe that come behind, To know, and walk according to my mind; If not, while I am juſt they muſt be ſure, Thoſe, or ſuch dreadful torments to endure. He that ſheds blood, with blood muſt puniſh'd be, For luſt and anger fire's the deſtiny. I'le ſtamp my curſe on all things for their ſake, This fruitful plain ſhall be a ſtinking Lake. If any fruit for ever after grow, It ſhall not be for Food, but only ſhow. Sod. Oh Heav'ns! I'm choack'd with Smoak, I'm burn'd with fire, O Brimſton, Brimſton! Where ſhall we retire? We dye, we dye, O may this be the laſt Of Heav'ns dreadful Sentence on us paſt! We're burn'd and damn'd, there is no remedy; We would not hear Lot, when he bid us fly From wrath to come. O how our Limbs do crack With fire! Our Conſcience is upon the rack For by-paſt Crimes; our beaſtly Luſts Torment Us, as the pretious time that we have ſpent. O wretched Nature, whither haſt thou brought Us Fools, and made us ſell our Souls for nought? Luxurious Eyes, why were ye ſo unkind, To dote on objects, who have made you blind? And you Tenacious hands, why did you graſp The Poyſon of the Spider? Why from Waſp Did you ſeek Honey? did not Heav'n beſtow, As upon Lot, ſo alſo upon you, The Lawful helps, and remedies for luſt? Was not all this enough? but that you muſt In ſpite of Heav'n, lay hold on all that came, Although they man his members had or name. Could not a lawful Wedlock ſatisfie Thy burning flame, proud fleſh? No, thou muſt cry Bring out thy handſome Gueſts, them we muſt know, Not knowing that they were not from below▪ Whoſe Juſt revenge doth make us miſerable, To bear theſe ſcorching flames we are not able. And yet alas! our wo doth but begin, The vengeance is Eternal that's for ſin. O that Lots God would grant us a reprieve But for one hour, that wretched we might live, To wail our by-paſt ſins; and beg his aid, Who never yet to humble ſinner ſaid, I ſcorn your plaints, but always graciouſly Prepar'd a bottle for a melting Eye. And piece-meal Pray'rs made whole with his own merit, Sa'ing be comforted, 'tis you muſt inherit My endleſs Joy; which ſentence now doth pierce Our Souls ſo much, that we cannot rehearſe Our woes, though Oh! alas! it is too late, We muſt expect nought but Almighties hate. See how the Devils laugh, whom we have ſerv'd: O curſed Sp'rits it't this we have deſerv'd From you, for all thoſe things that we have done At your Comand? —Devil. Give over, blame not me; You know I did but only gratifie Your own deſires, I never could command, Or force your wills; this the Almighties hand Was only able to effect, but ye With your unbounded wiſhes wearied me. You made the Tinder, then from me beg'd fire; Half what ye did, was never my deſire. You ſought the neweſt ways to damn your Souls, For which we Devils do account you Fools. Your ſtate might have been happy when at worſt, If you had not me, and your Natures forc'd. If we Apoſtates had ſuch promiſes, And helps as you; No ſinful falſe ſurmiſes Of feign'd fruition (of I know not what) Should e're have made us ſpirits forfeit that, You were aſſured of by Heavens word; Viz. Whoſoever turn'd unto the Lord, Should have their crimſon ſins made white as Snow; Their Scarlet ones like Wool; and what they ow Cancelled out of Gods omniſcience Book, Ev'n all ſins trumpery, that they ever took On truſt: and after death ſhould all receive, Glory in Heav'n, as much as they could crave. Did not your conſciences many times Speak, when you acted theſe unheard of Crimes? Then why did ye not ſay Tempter forbear? This, this ye did not, being voy'd of fear, Of either Heav'ns anger, or of Hell, Till ſcorching flames of a Sulphureous ſmell, Forc'd you on former actions to reflect, Which heretofore you ever did neglect. This you will find a good Apology, When you to Heav'ns Tribunal called be; Then you ſhall hear what I already ſaid, That if you had implor'd th'Almighty's aid, He would at all points, ſo have armed you, As all my fiery Darts ſhould ever bow And never pierce, But ſince your free election Was ſin, you muſt not grudge at your rejection. You are my Priſoners, and Hell your place, Where you ſhall never ſee the bleſſed Face Of God in mercy, but for ever muſt, Burn with his wrath, for your unnat'ral Luſt. Lot. Come Wife, why doſt thou tarry ſo behind? Wife. I am a Woman, can I be unkind? Have we not dwelt in Sodom ſeveral years? Can I behold its flames, and not ſhed Tears? Lot. When Heav'n is angry, we muſt be ſo too, Wife. Ah Husband! fleſh and blood this cannot do. Lot. But fleſh and blood ſhall not inherit bliſs, This truth we fully ſee confirm'd in this Sad fire. Wife. O Husband, Husband! ſee the ſmoak, The Town is fir'd. Lot. No, it will provoke My God, who hath his mercy magnifi'd, To grieve, that I'ave not with the City died. Wife. I muſt look back, let come of it what will, What God hath promiſed he will fulfill. I ſhall not dye. Lot. Fond Woman ſay not ſo, Thou muſt perform conditions, if thou go Alive to Zoar. Wife. O! I'm ſenſleſs ſtruck. Lot. Who break God's precepts ne're have better luck. Wife. Help Husband e're I dye, I fixed ſtand, My mouth is full of Salt. Lot. It is God's hand That ſtrikes; his bleſſed will I'le not controul, However, Lord have mercy on her Soul. Chorus. Beware of Sin, for God abhors Impenitents, and all their ſcores, With pen of Iron graves in ſtone, Which he'll produce when time is done. Of vengeance if you would be free, Beware of Luſt and Gluttony. This drowns the Soul, that doth it kill, Though Chriſt for it his blood did ſpill. The man that doth attempt the Crown, Deſerv's not to have kindneſs ſhown. Chriſt's honour is his Crown, yet we From time to time attempters be; Though he be patient and forbears, As witneſs his Jerus'lem Tears; Yet at the laſt, when he doth come With all his Angels; then our doom (With Majeſty) he ſhall repeat, When we can neither Bribe nor Cheat The Judge, nor Jury; but ſubmit To thoſe that hurry to the Pit; Where we muſt be depriv'd of bliſs, If we make Sin our buſineſs. Then let us look on Sodom's flames, and ſay, From Sodom's ſins, deliver Lord we pray. FINIS.

Abraham's FAITH.

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . Mark. 9.23.
The Perſons. Prologus. Hagar, Abraham's Hand-maid. Iſmael, Hagar's Son. Abraham. Sarah. Iſaack. Angel. Midwife. Devil. Faith. Fleſh. Deſpair. Abraham's Servants. Chorus. Epilogue.
Prologus. FRet not to ſee a Tragi-Comedy, Written by one, who thinks no ſhame to be All things to all men, Pedant, Player, Fool, Provided he may gain a Sin-ſick Soul; And bring him back to his firſt Love and Lord, Uſing no other Spel than Heav'ns word. The Atheiſt I do firſt Court and ſay, Sir, you're invited to our homely Play; Where, if you look with Abraham's faithful eye, You mercy in a Myſtery may spie. The diſobedient Child, I do invite To come, and view with me this happy ſight. Young Iſaack, who ſubmitteth to the knife Of Abraham, from whom he firſt had life. The tender Mother may alſo draw near, And hear or read theſe Lines and never fear, Abra'm by God muſt only tryed be, The Boy by him, and then delivery From Heav'n will come, or if the World's worthies, Will daign a look, or stoop to catch ſuch flies As I have brought; or can ſpare any time, From greater matters to read humble Rhyme, They're welcome. Sick men alſo from their beds May come, and have a Pillow for their heads. He that is fit to hang himſelf may come, Here is a Ram already in his Room. In fine, of all ſorts, comers welcome be, To ſee Heav'ns Wiſdom, Pow'er, Philanthropy.
Abrahams Faith, Hagar, Iſmael, Abraham, Sarah, Midwife. Hag. ALas poor Boy, our comfort now is o're! I never knew what 'twas to grieve before. How often have I ſolac'd in the Armes Of thy dear Father? Oh! but now the charmes, Printed by Heav'n upon my Miſtreſs face Are irreſiſtable, alas! alas! Iſm. Why Mother, why? was it not always ſo? Hag, No Child, thou'rt ignorant, thou doſt not know; It is not long ſince Old-age and diſpair Of Iſſue, made her ſelf account me fair, And recommend me to my deareſt Lord; Though now her piercing looks, as ſharpeſt Sword Cut what they ſee. We, we are both undone, She muſt enjoy old Abraham alone. Iſm. But Mother, Sarah hath no Children yet. Hag. I know ſhe hath not, but the time is ſet For her deliv'ry; and 'twill be a Boy, To diſ-inherit thee, the only joy Of me thy Mother. Iſm. Diſ-inherit me He cannot, unleſs Law perverted be: The Primo-geniture I'm ſure is mine, Which no man ſhall perſwade me to reſign, Hag. I'm but the Hand-maid, Sarah is the wife; Theſe very words may breed an endleſs ſtrife I'th' Family: and Miſtreſs without doubt, Will ſtudy means whereby to caſt us out. Sar. My Lord can you the glories of my face Behold and not admire? Can there be place In your grave Breaſt, for any other flame Beſide that kindled from my Eyes? then tame Your ſtrange deſires; and let your lawful Bed Bound your careſſes. Know that you are Wed To Sarah now, who ceaſeth to be dead And barren as before: View her from head To foot, her features and her limbs mark well, And if theſe pleaſe not, ſee her Belly ſwell. One Child from Heav'n may ballanc'd be with two, That come by Natures law, and mine is ſo. Abr. Deareſt of Wives, this new thought on diſcourſe, Seemeth to riſe from ſome malitious ſource. What is thy will? or what doſt thou deſire? Would you have fewel added to the fire That Heav'n hath kindled? Dear what do'ſt require? Sar, That you ſhake off your Hand-maids, and Love me, Is all I crave; I will not Rivall'd be. Kind Husbands when their Wives in my condition Be, (for the moſt part) do with full ſubmiſſion Hearken to them, fearing untimely birth. Abr. Well Sarah, well, you are diſpos'd for mirth. Sar. 'Tis mirth to you, but I muſt feel the ſorrow, I think I ſhall be brought to Bed to morrow. Go, call the Midwife, I am very bad; I never yet ſuch Griping torture had, Abr. Chear up my deareſt, when thou ſee'ſt the Boy, 'Twill baniſh grief, and raviſh thee with joy. When Males are born the trouble is forgot, And thine will be a Boy I queſtion not. Sar. Pray for me Husband, this is a ſharp bout. Abr. He who hath promis'd, he will help thee out. Midwife what news? Mid. You have a lovely Child, Thank Heav'n your expectation's not beguil'd. Sar. Take him my Lord, this Boy will make you glad. Abr. It is the beſt that e're my deareſt had, Here, take ye him, 'tis time that he were fed. Mid. Nay hold as yet my Lord, you've forfeited. Abr. Forfeited, what? Mid. Good Sir, a Midwives fee. Abr. Here take the Child, and I will give it thee. Here. Mid. Sir I thank you, when I women lay Of their firſt born, I ſee I'ave double pay; The next my Lady hath, my Lord will hold His hand, and will not part with ſo much Gold. Abr. I am no Niggard if that time do come, I promiſe thee to give a bigger ſum. Mid. My Lord I'm but in Jeſt, yet may you have A num'rous iſſue, if you nothing gave. Sar. Husband you know I laughed heretofore, Have not I reaſon now, as many more; Then from my laughter let him have his name. Abr. I'ave call'd him Iſaack, is not that the ſame? Sar. My Lovely Babe, come let me ſuckle thee. There is no Mortal can more joyful be. Chorus. Heav'ns mind's fulfill'd, And Sarah ſtill • d. O how ſhe long'd, And ſaid I'm wrong'd. No Wife like me, Who Abra'ms be: All have their Joys, Their Babies-toys. I'm only ſhe, Who barren be. New, now her Breaſts Are made two Neſts, For harbouring The lov'd Off-ſpring, Of her dear Lord, At Heavens word. And more ſhe may Have that ſame way. Gods promiſes To us are bliſs. No Art avails, When Heaven fails. His bleſſings he Beſtow'd, then ſhe Got blowen Saills. If any after Children want, they may For remedy, with her to Heaven pray. Abraham, Sarah, Iſaack, Angel. Ab. Dear heart methinks this Boy hath ſuck'd too long. Sar. What? and hath neither Feet nor Tongue E're he be wean'd he muſt a Foot-man be, To run and prattle up and down with thee. Now do your pleaſure. Ab. Call our friends together, He muſt not be a burthen to his Mother. Iſa. Mam if I loſe my pap the Child will cry. Sar. Yes prety thing thou muſt, or Mam will dye: O! how it ſnugs and ſleeps upon my Breaſt; Poor rogue, I'm ſure of all he loves me beſt. Here, thou ſhalt have thy bubby one month longer, E're that be o're my Chicken may be ſtronger: And if that will not do, He give'm another, No Love is like to that of a dear Mother. Come dry Nurſe, take the Child and uſe him well, Thy care of him, ſhall make thee ever dwell With me in plenty. Abram ſee the ſcorn Of Hagar's Brat, that in my houſe was born; If you deceive not Heav'n which counts you juſt, You muſt him and his Mother both, out thruſt; Becauſe the Rog • e in years hath got the ſtart, He ſtrives with Iſaack for an equal part In thy eſtate, but it muſt not be ſo; If me and mine you Love, pray let them go. Ab. What change of humours all you Women have! It is not long ſince you the handmaid gave, And ſaid, of her you ſhall raiſe ſeed to me; I thought this was enough to make her free I'th' houſe, but now I ſee 'tis otherways, Favours of this kind, have ſudden decays. However your deſire I will fulfill; Hagar be gone, it is thy Miſtreſs will. Ang. Well ſaid my friend, for I deſire the ſame, Thy Family muſt from Iſaack have its name, And bleſſing too. Ab. Thy will I ſhall obey; Come Sirs, get up and make no more delay: The Lord commands, whoſe laws are all to me Juſt, though contrary they to nature be. This Bread and Water take, and ſo go hence, You have abus'd your Miſtreſs patience; Though I know nothing, I muſt not controul, This peeviſh humour grieves my very Soul. Chorus. Each day hath its ſucceeding night, Clouds ſometimes darken the Suns light. The Flowers that florid are to day, Tomorrow Froſt nips quite away. Youth like a ſhaddow flies, and age Sayth, 'tis my turn to tread the Stage. Life muſt give place to grim-fac'd Death, There's nothing fixed made of Earth. But all dance round and Circle make, While one anothers place doth take. The paſſions likewiſe have their turns, One Breaſt with Love and Hatred burns. One's ſad, and merry, Melancholly, And all ſometimes, are counted folly. Honours and pleaſures are ſo brittle, That moſt wiſe men eſteem them little. In fine there's nought but thoughts of Heaven, That bringeth Wages home at Even. Angel, Abraham, Devil, Faith, Fleſh, Deſpair. Ang. Abra'm my faithful Servant, do'ſt thou hear? I muſt give thee a viſit once a year; I • ave found thee perfect always hitherto, And now I am come, to try if thou wilt do What I command thee, without ſtay or grudge; Remember, once thou call'd me righteous Judge. Ab. I'm here, ſpeak Lord, thy Servant hears and will Count all thy precepts Juſt, and them fulfill. Ang. What could'ſt thou freely part withal for me? Ab. What could I not? ſince I have all from thee. Ang. Then thou muſt take thy Son, thine only Son, And ſacrifice him; ſo my will is done. The Mount Moriah's fitteſt for thy turn, There thou ſhalt lead young Iſaack, and him burn; This action, Abraham, will pleaſe me well. Ab. My Lord if you command, I'le go to Hell. Devil. Fond fool give o're, Religion makes thee mad, Heav'ns Minions never yet rejoycing had Without a damp; their ſweet is mix'd with ſoure, It is not poſſible for humane power, To act what he commands, being as ſtrict As thoſe, who bid men without ſtraw make brick. Faith. Give o're thou murd'ring Sp'rit, do not delude, The friend of God, all whoſe commands are good, If he ſhould fear or fret at his deſire, Thou canſt not keep him from a fiercer fire Than he is bid to kindle for his Son, That's Brimſton, and will laſt when this is done; And yet will be no pleaſing Sacrifice To God nor him, do Abraham and be wiſe. Fleſh. What Father ever yet ſo cruel was, To Murther his own Child without a cauſe? View but theſe Limbs and features of his face, His ſparkling Eyes, then there will be no ſpace Left in thy harden'd heart, for cruelty; A faithful man will never Butcher be Of humane Bodies— Faith. Faint fleſh, thoſe Eyes and Features are but toys, That fade with time and age, there's greater Joys Laid up for Iſaack, immortality; What needs thou care then if he burned be? Beſides, haſt thou not heard how Phaenix rare, Burned to aſhes, doth her ſelf repair Out of the ſame, being firſt a little Worm? If thou believe, thou need'ſt not fear this ſtorm. Deſpair. Thou canſt not be belov'd of God, ſince he Bids thee perform ſuch monſtrous cruelty: They ſay he's merciful, if it be ſo, Thou may'ſt lye ſtill and never think to go To Mount Moriah, whom he loves, he loves; But this command, rather his hatred proves. Faith. This is an old tone, and beſpeaks thee fool; Know, that he hath given ev'ry man his Soul, Which, if he back again from him requires, By Famine, Sword, or Peſtilence, or Fires; 'Tis never to deſtroy that he doth this, But for removall to Eternal bliſs. Ab. Give o're, give o're, now it is almoſt day, I will no more diſpute. Believe and pray I will, for ſucceſs on my loved hoſt, I ſpend but time, my God is at the coſt; He gave me Iſaack, and deſires that he In fire and flames ſhould from the Altar be, Sent whence he came— Sarah, Abraham, Servants. Sar. My Lord I fear you have a troubled head, For I could ſcarcely hold you in your Bed: Tell me your Dream, it fearful is I'm ſure, For I have Dreamed too, and can't endure Now when awake, no not to think of it: I ſaw a Bow from Heav'n, bent and hit My darling. Ab. Sarah then our Dreams are one, God bids me go and burn my little Son. Sar. Burn him? alas! I ſee I laugh'd too ſoon, Then muſt my hopes and comforts all be gone. Ab. Peace Sarah, it is God requires the Lad, And he ſhall have him, if I twenty had. Can I beſtow them better, than to give My Maker all? in whom I move and live. Sar. My Lord 'tis but a Dream, as yet forbear, Such things require a double Meſſenger. Ab. Deareſt thou know'ſt my Dreams are always true, Though ſuch a Dream as this I never knew. However, honey, let us with ſubmiſſion Part with the Lad, obeying Heav'ns commiſſion; His pow'er is great, ſo is his mercy too, Thou know'ſt not what he is about to do: For I may ſafely with the Boy return; And if I do not, there's no cauſe to mourn, We are but as were, and he another May give, whom thou may'ſt call Iſaack's Brother. The promiſer is all-ſufficient, We can have no juſt cauſe then to repent Our Piety, which always promiſe hath, Of grace and freedom from Eternal Death. Sar. My Lord he is your own, and God your Friend, Obey him, mean while I will Prayers ſend For him to Heav'n, as ſoon as you are gone, And beg he may not give me cauſe to moan, Who laugh'd before.— Ab. Go Sadle me my Aſs, and two of you Muſt go with me, where yet I do not know. Call my Boy ſoftly, tell him he muſt riſe, To ſee his Father offer Sacrifice. Go to the Log-pile, and chooſe out ſome wood, Cleave none for uſe, but that's exceeding good. Ser. Sir all is ready. Ab. Sarah fare thee well, Still hope in God, the Lad may live and dwell Again with thee his Mother, till he come To mans 'ſtate: or another in his room. Sar. My doubts are over, may the Lord direct You in your Journey, for if he protect, Or kill the Boy, I ſhall leave to complain; Perhaps he doth intend a greater gain, Than either you or I as yet expect; Kiſs me dear Child, and thou my God effect The preſent work, my Husband is but clay, And may ſtretch out his hand another way Than is thy will; again kiſs me my Son, Then go with courage, Heav'ns will be done. Ab. Behold my Servants, do not you eſpy, Above the reſt, a hill ſtands very high? I and my little man muſt yonder go, Mean while abide ye here. Ser. My Lord why ſo? May we not bear our Maſter company? Ab. No, If ye did perhaps ye'd hinder me, From acting th'higheſt piece of Piety, That ever yet was heard, or ſeen with Eye. Ser. Have we not ſeen the Sacrifice before? Ab. 'Tis true, and yet in this will be much more Faith, Reſolution, needful, than when I For ſmaller matters Sacrifice or pray. Ser. Good my Lord, let us go to ſee the ſight. Ab. No, no, I cannot, it will you affright. Ser. We muſt contented be and you obey, Hoping you will not from us make long ſtay. Ab. I will return aſſoon as I have done, 'Twill be no pleaſure to ſtay there alone. Ser. Alone you cannot be, this little Boy Can make a Wilderneſs a place of joy. Ab. But I muſt leave him there my God commands. Ser. Firſt deareſt Maſter tye your Servants hands; For we will ſooner far reſolve to dye, Than ſee you actor of ſuch cruelty. This is in jeſt. Ab. No, I muſt Sacrifice The Boy, Heav'n bids me, who I'm ſure is wife; If I do freely act what he commands, He either will approve, or hold my hands. Tnink you that I can any other thing Value above my All-ſufficient King? No no, it is his mind and't ſhall be mine, In ſpight of all who 'gainſt it do combine. I think his Mother hath the greateſt cauſe, Who willingly ſubmits to Heav'ns Lawes; Bidding me act what my good God hath ſaid, For proof thereof, ſhe him incouraged, To ſuffer valiantly— Ser. Sir, We are not to queſt'on your intent, Being our Maſter; but a good event We will implore. Ab. Come, come my pretty boy, This cloudy day may end in Sun-ſhine Joy. Take up the Wood my Son, I'ave knife and fire, We muſt fulfillers be of Heav'ns deſire. Chorus. Eternal Wiſdom, when he made Sun, Moon and Stars, to each he ſaid, Take you your turnes; you muſt the day Govern, and you your Scepter ſway I'th' night, when men are gone to reſt, And think to ſleep with quiet Breaſt. This is Heav'ns Lawes, and yet we ſee, That men then moſt unquiet be. Abram from Heaven hears a voice, Which quickly marr'd his new made joys. It bids him go and burn his Son, Which is no ſooner ſaid than done, And Sarah who in all mens thought, Would have Abraham counted nought, For harbouring ſuch cruelty In's Breaſt, as he ſhould Butcher be To his own Child; contents and ſays, Husband we may have happy days When Iſaack's gone, then why ſhould we, Strive Abrams hinderers to be? Go on Sir, let your high deſire, Be hallowed with Heav'ns fire. Iſaack, Abraham, Angel, Epilogue. Iſa. O Father, Father, one thing yet we lack, 〈◊〉 Lamb for offering you'ave forgot to take. • hall I run back and make a quick return? Ab. No, no, you need not, that which I muſt burn God will provide; come let us go together, • e find a Lamb, my Boy, when I come thither. Iſa. Doth any clean Beaſt paſture on that hill? Ab. That work which God begins he will fufill. • ut hark my Child, doſt thou not fear my God; Iſa. Why doubt you that? Ab. Then this thy load of Wood Muſt thee conſume.— Iſa. But Father, doth your God ſuch Sacrifice equire? Ab. It ſeems ſo now. Iſa. Father be wiſe, The Dev'l can change into a Saint of light, May be 'twas he that call'd you in the night. Ab. No Child, God's promiſe goeth far with me, Who faith, that none ſhall ever tempted be Above what they are able; I do not fear, Nor needeſt thou to ſhed a guiltleſs tear. Iſa. My tender limbs will ne're endure the heat. Ab. He'll ſend his Angels to wipe off the ſweat. Iſa. My deareſt Father, is your heart ſo hard? Can nothing this your enterprize retard? Ab. Nothing my Child, though I be full of love, And grieve to kill thee, yet ſince my Jehove Commands; My faith doth overcome my ſenſe, And makes me with humanity diſpence. Boy thou muſt dye. Iſa. I'm glad it is for God. Ab. None other ſhould have made me lay this load On Iſaacks tender ſhoulders. Now my Child We're at the place where I muſt Altar build. Dig up the Turf, and let us raiſe the Earth. Iſa. Ah Father I'm already out of Breath. The thoughts of Death, with the Sun's melting heat O'recometh me, Oh ſee how I do ſweat! Is't done enough? Abra. Not yet, it muſt b • higher, That all the aſhes may fall from the fire. Now 'tis enough, come Child, bring me the Woo • Iſa. 'Tis here my Father. Ab. It is very good All's done ſo far, my Boy thou muſt be bound. Iſ. Your will be done: O that I may not ſwoun! But with undaunted courage yield my breath, To him who power hath of life and death. • t is my Maker's will and I ſubmit, • oping by him to be kept from the pit •• fernal: He will raiſe me up again, With Saints and Angels ever to remain. • ehold my hands! I'le fold them for your eaſe. Ab. Son, knew I any way my God to pleaſe, 〈◊〉 would not touch thee. Iſa. I am now grown ſtrong, • nd valiant too, I count this death no wrong. Abr. Thou muſt get up before I bind thy feet. Iſa. Sir, that your will I ſhould perform is meet. • ow bind not hard, I will not ſtruggle much, • ut deareſt Father, kill me at firſt touch, • he knife is ſharp enough and you are ſtrong. Ab. Dear Child I tremble, and may ſtrike thee wrong. Iſa. Hold Father but a little, let me pray 〈◊〉 Heav'n, and firſt Lord teach me what to ſay. • y God look on me with a tender Eye, • nd pardon all my ſins of Infancy; •• en my Eyes before the knife come down, • hat while I live, I may leap at the Crown • epar'd for Martyrs. Lord let me inherit, • e bleſſings promis'd by thy holy Spirit. • all, call thy Angels to receive that Soul, • ho ne're as yet did willingly controul Thy will. Sir, now ſtrike on, for I have done. Ab. No, I muſt pray too, e're I can go on. O All-ſufficient whoſe purer Eye, Look'th with abhorrence on all cruelty; Accept this Sacrifice, make ſtrong my arm, Since thou beſt know'ſt that I intend no harm To my dear Child, but that I may the name, Receive (when done) of faithful Abraham. Lord I believe, raiſe feeble hand and heart To give the blow— Now Child I ſtrike. Here. O! who holds m • Arm? Ang. Stay Abram, ſtay, and do not any harm Unto thy Son, I minded but to try, If I could in thy faith a flaw eſpy. Look but behind thee, there's the Sacrifice, Lay hold of it, and let young Iſaack riſe; I'm ſure thou lov'ſt me 'bove each Earthly thing Since thou waſt willing to make offering Of thy own fleſh: Touch not the hopeful Boy, But let him to his Mother go with Joy. This Ram thou ſhalt inſtead of him up offer, I never did intend that he ſhould ſuffer. Ab. The beſt of news that ever yet were hear For though I did believe, I greatly fear'd. But bleſs'd be God, and let him ever be, As Abraham's ſo alſo God to thee; Let no diſtruſt for ever Lodge within Thy Breaſt, thou'rt Type of him who muſt for Be offer'd really; is it not beſt To go unto the Servants? Iſa. There's no haſte. Before approaching death I pray'd, and now Reſtor'd again, I'le at the Altar bow. He that is freed from danger ought with ſpeed, To bleſs the hand that helpt him in his need. Ab. Do happy Child, and I will ſecond thee; • oynt Prayers welcome unto Heaven be. Iſa. Lord let me ever with all thankfulneſs Adore thy name, ſince thou did'ſt not oppreſs, With grief my Mother, but haſt ſaved me, That I to her may greateſt comfort be • n old age, when my Fathers hoary head, • hew's to the World that he is almoſt dead. • id me thy will perform, I'le never grudge, Being perſwaded thou'rt a righteous Judge. Ab. Lord I can ſay no more than I have ſaid, Who thee implores ſhall ne're want timely aid. Thy Arm is ſtrong, Eyes quick and alwayes ready, • o eaſe his Burthen, who doth carry ſteady; 〈◊〉 have endeavour'd, and my weak intention, Hath met with mercy, Heav'ns condeſcention. FINIS.
EPILOGUE. IF any thing in theſe few ſheets be found, May burn the thorn, or prick the ſtony ground. If any thing the way-ſide-corn doth gather, To Sow't in good, then, then my Heav'nly Father, The Meat is right, if not ſpoil'd by the Cook; If ſo, the ſqueamiſh may forbear to look Upon it. If any hunger ſtarved be, Eat heartily, it will not ſurfeit thee. If any Gentleman or Lady find, Ought in this Poem fitteth not their mind; They may repair unto ſome fatter Soil, Where they may have their lukewarm hearts mad boil With love and valour, (Imps of fleſh and blood) I'ave no ſuch ware, but here is that's as good. And love, and valour too, yet ſuch as will Not hurt the lover, nor the valiant kill. They love and fight, and yet both victors be. Abra'm and God. This Tragi-Comedy, Pleaſed my ſelf, when I it undertook, And pleas'd my friends, when they on it did look; But if it pleaſe not others, let them caſt It out of Doors, perhaps 't may be the laſt, That they ſhall ſee of mine in ſuch a ſtile, For this I'le neither Plaudite, beg, nor ſmile. FINIS.

JOSEPH REVIV'D. OR, The Twelve laſt Chapters of Geneſis Metaphrazed.

Containing the LIFE and DEATH Of Holy JOSEPH.

By GEORGE LESLY, Miniſter of Wittering in Northamptonſhire.

And we know that all things work together for good to them that Love God, Rom. 8.28.

LONDON, • rinted for the Author, and are to be ſold by Charles Smith at the Angel near the Inner Temple gate, Fleet-ſtreet. 1678.

Imprimatur,

Gul. Jane S.T.B. Reverend. in Chriſto Patri Dno. Henrico Epiſc. Lond. à Sacris Domeſticis. Jan. 17. 1675.
To the Right Worſhipful WILL. WYMONDESOLD, ESQUIRE, Mr. EDMUND, Mr. RICHARD, Mr. MATTHEW, and Mr. THOMAS his Brethren; with their truly Vertuous Mother and Siſters. Worthy Sirs and Ladies,

BEING about to throw my Mite into the Publick Treaſury, to plant a tender VINE in the Lords VINEYARD, I thought you fitteſt to fence it with Your favourable Aſpects, who are not onely almoſt equal in Number but Vertues, to thoſe Sacred Patriarchs, whoſe Hiſtory I have metaphrazed. The Meeter is like my Self, dull and deſpicable, but the Matter is of Divine Inſpiration, which juires Your acceptance by Heavens Authority, while as the other onely lets the World know, that I am,

YOURS, Extraordinary obliged, GEO. LESLY. Wittering, Jan. 7. 1675/6.
TO THE READER. IF Heaven be pleas'd to dart his glorious Rayes Into my Soul, let others take the Bayes, Who climb Parnaſſus and Mount Helicon For airy Notions, while I at the Throne Of Mercy beg an underſtanding Heart To meaſure out what Moſes did impart To th' World, concerning Jacob and his Seed, 'Mong whom a Dream did great diſſention breed. Though God inſpir'd the Prophet from above, And he (poor Heart) revealed all in love, Whoſe harmleſs Viſion counted was a crime, And ſo (perhaps) may this my humble Rhime: Yet if in friendly manner you diſcloſe My overſights, I'le mend, or write in Proſe. G. L.
To my Worthy Friend Mr. GEORGE LESLY, upon his Poem called JOSEPH Reviv'd. WITH Fiction while the airy Poet doth Abuſe the Text, thou tell'ſt the naked truth; Thou ſtuff'ſt thy Verſe with Senſe, and every Rhime Compleat ſpeaks thee a Poet without crime. He who in Sacred Phraſe was once forlorn, And piece-meal ſhown, like to his Garment, torn, Thou offer'ſt whole; ſnips and ſhred's they Theam, Thou draw'ſt his Story up without a Seam. O happy Art! thrice Joſeph rides in State, In Pharaoh's Second Char'ot firſt, then date His ſecond Trophy with Divine Records, His Honour laſt commenceth with thy words. Bid Breth'ren all his Glory'n Egypt tell; He needs not now, thy Pen hath don't ſo well, That all the Brittiſh Orb of it may ring, And we of thee, while thou of him do'ſt ſing. Tho. Woolſey D. D.
JOSEPH REVIV'D. OF Rachel's long'd for darling ſince I ſing, And thy beloved, help me Jacob's King. My Bark is crazie, and my ſtock is ſmall, Yet if thou Wind and Sea command, I ſhall Safe to the Harbour this my Pinnace bring, Then of my ſelf and it make offering. At Padan-aram had this worthy breath, Not long before the beauteous Rachels death, Yet Hebron was the place of his abode, At ſeventeen years belov'd of man and God: Where with his Brethren, Dan and Napthali, Aſher and Gad, he on the downs did lie, Feeding the Flocks with them, their ill report Grieved the Lad, for which he did reſort Unto his aged Father, and declar'd Thoſe paſſages that he had ſeen and heard. Theſe actions, Boy, to them will fatal prove, Though I can never take from thee that love I unto Rachel (while ſhe liv'd) did bear. For proof whereof this Livery take and wear. This, with his tydings did exaſperate His Brethrens ſpirits, ſo that him they hate, Which heaven ſoon perceiveth, and his fame Raiſeth, by dreams to be fulfill'd on them; The which when he (awake) begins to tell, Their eyes inflame and hearts with anger ſwell Againſt the harmleſs Youth, who ne'rtheleſs In friendly manner did it thus expreſs: This night, ſaid he, as we all binding were Sheaves in the field, mine did it ſelf uprear In King-like poſture, and yours round did ſtand, Making obeiſance, waiting its command. To which his Brethren haſtily reply'd, Shalt thou reign o're us? Shall it e're be ſaid That thou ſhalt have dominion? No, thy grave Is juſt reward, for theſe thy Dreams to have. Yet where Jehovah works no man can let, He dreams again of their ſucceeding fate, Which he once more doth unto them reveale, And ſaid, this other I will not conceale. And thus it was, Behold! the Sun and Moon, With Stars eleven, to me have homage done. Of this he did not only certifie His Brethren, but his Father, who did cry, Fie Son! what mean theſe uncouth thoughts? be ſure Such wild preſages I ſhall ne'r endure; Think'ſt thou, that I, my Wife and Children too Shall crouch and bow, and fall fore ſuch as you? No child, be wiſe, forbear thus to divine, Leſt all the reſt againſt thee do combine. This ſtorm is ceaſed, and the young men gone Their flocks to feed, in Sechem every one, For whoſe long abſence, neither night nor day Can Jacob reſt, till Joſeph's ſent away, Who ſaid, Go down and ſee if all be right, I've ſuffered much for my ten Sons this night. Your will, ſaid he, is unto me a Law, I'le go to Sechem, though I never ſaw The place: no ſooner doth he undertake his journey, than the way he doth forſake, And wanders too and fro in open field, Till one drew nigh and pitied the child, Saying, What ſeek'ſt thou Stripling, 'tis my grief To ſee thee ſtraying here without relief? My Brethren, Sir, ſaid he, pray tell me whither They've driven their flocks to feed, I muſt go thither. Boy, anſwer'd he, I think I heard them ſay, Riſe up, and let's to Dothan ſtreight away: And there they are, for any thing I know, The graſs is good, becauſe the ground is low. My thanks I give you, Sir, and if I find Them there, I'le ſay you were exceeding kind. This ſaid, he runneth thither joyfully, Not dreaming once of any danger nigh. But 'twas a dream, for he's no ſooner ſpy'd By his malicious Brethren, than they cry'd, Behold! our Dreamer comes, prophetick Mome; Come, let us ſlay him, he ſhall ne'r go home, And caſt him in ſome Pit, then we will ſay Some evil Beaſt hath ta'ne his life away. And then 'tis hop'd that we ſhall quickly ſee A final end both of his Dreams and he. But Reuben who was judg'd leaſt to reſpect God or his Father, doth the Lad protect; Sa'ing, Let's not kill him, for ſome time or other It will come out, remember he's our Brother; If his Blood cry, let us not think to thrive: We'll rather put him in this Pit alive. This courſe he was the willinger to take, Becauſe thereby he thought to get him back Safe to his Father. All this time the Lad Thought of no ill, nor yet ſuſpicion had, But ruſh'd among them, raviſhed with joy, Wiſhing them health; who anſwer, Fooliſh Boy Haſt not more Dreams to tell? we muſt now ſee If this fine Coat doth make thee propheſie. Are we not Brethren? Oh! be not ſo rude, Said he, I mean to you nothing but good. No, Stripling no, thy Sighs, thy Pra'rs, thy Tears With us muſt take no place, thy tender years Which pity crave, muſt taſte our crueltie; In this dry Pit thou art deſign'd to lie. To't, fling him down, 'tis Noon we'll take repaſt: But hold, who's this draws towards us ſo faſt? Iſhma'lites ſurely, come from Gilead Load'n with Spice, Balm, Myrrhe, Egyptian Trade. By this time Judah's heart began to melt, Whoſe words declare that he great trouble felt. What profit's in our Brothers blood, ſaid he, Though we conceal't, yet murderers we be. Give o'r; I've found a way that's better far: We ſee theſe Camels richly loaden are, Let's with their Maſters this our Dreamer truck; And being gone, we'll pray for his good luck. This, this will clear us from the Calumnie Of Fratricide that would upon us lie. Ho, Chapmen tarry, want ye not a Lad To drive your Horſes and promote your Trade? Here's one, we'll ſell him cheap. A pretty Youth, Reply'd the Merchants, he will ſerve us both. How prize ye him? Speak, if ye mean that we Should buy him of you, rate him not too high. At one word, twenty Pieces is our price. Hold, here's your Money, he is worth it twice: And ſo we hope he'll give, the Boy likes well. The Wares are always good that Merchants ſell. We'll carry him to Egypt, for his Age And Feature fitteth him to be a Page To ſome great Lady; if that will not do, My Lord he can ſerve in his Chamber too. And if the Rules of Phiſiognomie Deceive us not, ſuch Graces hidden lie Under his flaxen hair, and downie chin, As hitherto in any ſcarce hath bin. Come, let's go hence; I'le now unto the Pit, Saith Reu. to ſee if Joſeph be in it, But miſſing of him, whom he thought to find, He inſtantly returns with heavie mind Unto his Brethren, crying out, Alaſs! The Boy is taken out of yonder place: Whither ſhall I go? not home to my dear Father, Seeing he'll require of me; no, I'le rather Breath out the reſt of my unhappy years In ſome dark Cell, and expiate with tears My double crime. No Brother, cry the reſt, We have a project (if ye think it beſt) Will with our Father clear both us and you: Look, here's his Coat, and there are Coats enough, Let's with their blood beſprinkle it, and then Go cheerfully to Hebron back again, And ask our Father if this garb he knows, Since at firſt view it like to Joſeph's ſhows. On this they all conclude, and home return With joyful faces, though they'd cauſe to mourn; And with theſe tydings Jacob did ſalute, At which ſurpriz'd, he's ſuddenly ſtruck mute, And beats his Breſt, his Eyes great floods let out Of Tears, and ſaid, Poor Joſeph without doubt Is torn in pieces by ſome evil Beaſt, Who firſt devours, and after makes his feaſt. This ſaid, he rent his clothes, ſack-cloth put on, And many days mourned for him alone, Without all comfort, till at laſt his Sons And Daughters all come unto him at once, Saying, O Father why doth this your grief Tranſport you ſo, as not to take relief; We think you might be joyful, when you ſee Of your own Loins this goodly companie. No, ſaid old Jacob, though I love you well, Yet this Lad's death will make me go to Hell Mourning: poor heart! in him alone I liv'd, And now being dead, how can I be but griev'd? Yet all this ſorrow can nothing retard The ſturdy Pedlars, who by driving hard Have got to Egypt, where by quick retaile They mean their Spice to vend, and Joſeph's ſale Expect; both which accordingly fell out, Buyers (like Bees) to them flock round about; And Potiphar himſelf beholds their Trade, Where ſuddenly he ſpies the lovely Lad; Likes, buyes and payes, carries him to his houſe, That Proverb's falſe, Mountains bring forth a Mouſe. At home when he good notice taken had, Of all things were performed by the Lad, And of the Bleſſings he from God receiv'd, Name and Religion, then of him he crav'd; Which known, from ſlavery he did ſet him free, Saying, Of my Houſe thou now ſhalt Ruler be. The pious Youth no ſooner is preferr'd, Then th' others Pra'er for thrift is anſwered; For God did then th' Egyptians houſe ſo bleſs, That all things proſp'red, whether more or leſs. This made the Captain truſt him with his ſtore Of all that he had car'd for, nor knew no more Then what he eat; But, ah! the goodly face Of Joſeph tempted Jempſar to embrace The holy Youth with her ſurrounding Arms, And glance her am'rous eys, adul'trous Charms. Theſe made him bluſh with ſhame and fear together, And anſwer, No, you're Sacred as my Mother. Doth not my Maſter truſt his State with me? And hath with-held nothing at all but thee. This wickedneſs is great, I dare not do't; Pardon me Miſtreſs, and leave off your ſuit. Say, if I grant all that which you deſire, Can you keep off God's Wrath and Huſbands Ire? Nay, he will be offended, and my Lord Will never after take an Hebrews word. Yet this enflamed Wanton gives not o'r To ſpeak him kindly ev'ry day and hour; Adding forced Careſſes, but in vain, From day to day, till ſhe had drunk the bane That either muſt her Luſt or Fury end Upon her Servant and her Husbands Friend: Both which are grown to that prodigious height, That though the Sun ſhines, yet ſhe counts it night, Saying within her ſelf, he's here I gueſs Alone i'the houſe about his buſineſs; This is the laſt exploit I mind to try, To which the Fool muſt either yeild or die; And then laid hold upon his Coat and ſwore, I'le have all I deſire of thee before Thou go, there's none can ſee or hear the noiſe; But he as frighted at her luſtful voice, Flees out and leaves his Garment in her hand. Where God forbids to fight, he dares not ſtand. Now Hell and ſhe muſt act another part, Viz. mourning face put on, diſſembling heart, The ſugar'd words ſhe uſed but of late For baits, turns Choller, this to cruel hate; Calling aloud to all, for Heavens ſake help, I am abuſed by this Hebrew Whelp. See here the Relicts of his villany: My cries it made him leave, and from me flee. And now would God my Potiphar were come, For I ſhall never reſt till he's at home, And have related unto him what fare Muſt be expected i'the houſe where Hebrews are. He's at the door, run and let in my Lord. How now my Girl? What? neither ſmile nor word? Smile, No: how can I? ſince your very ſlave Embolden'd is, thine, not my Love to crave: He hath attempt'd that Fort was ne'r beſieg'd By more than thee, to whom I am oblig'd. Horrid! Nay, 'tis no Jeſt, this Coat but ſee, And then my wrong revenge, or love not me. To which the furious Husband anſwer made, Enough my Jempſar, it ſhall ne'r be ſaid That you (my Love) can any thing demand That I'le deny, wherefore I pray you ſtand To ſee the Prologue of his torturing pains, He ſhall impriſon'd be and bound with chains. Go, curſed Rogue, I'le never truſt the face That's beautiful, it's ſeldom lin'd with grace. This heard, the courteous Lad made humble bow, Saying, My Lord, I never wronged you; Time trying all things, you ſhall plainly ſee The fault was hers, and there was none in me: Wherefore, I hope, that God whom I do ſerve Will grant ſuch favour, that I may not ſtarve In this dark Priſon— Thy words are bootleſs, Jaylor keep him ſure While I have ſtudied what he ſhall endure. Which, when Jehovah from's Imperial Throne Heard, wills a winged Herald to be gone Down to his Footſtool-Earth, and there to tell The Turn-key, he muſt uſe the Pris'ner well. This made our guiltleſs Youth much favour find With him, that unto others was unkind: For, what in priſon was among them done, Joſeph was doer of it; he alone Without controle rul'd all, becauſe the Lord Him proſper'd, according to the World. Yet all this time our Joſeph never thought How he from priſon ſhould at laſt be brought, Till he that all for good makes work together, Sent Pharaoh's Butler and his Baker thither For miſdemeanour, who were put in ward With Potiphar the Captain of the Guard, Whom Joſeph ſerv'd; at laſt each dream'd a dream, Viz. Butler, Baker on a ſeveral Theam, Which ſo perplexed both of them next morrow, That he it ſpied, and ſaid, Sirs, what ſorrow Tormenteth you, ye lowr and are ſo ſad? There is ſome cauſe, if your night-ſleep was bad. Boy, that's not all, but we have dreaming been, And none can tell us what the ſame doth mean. Hear me, my Maſters, do not you yet know That their Interpretations from below Come not, 'tis only ſuch, events can read As are with Sp'ritual Mantles overſpread. Then do but tell me what was each mans Theam, Not doubting I ſhall quickly read your Dream. A Vine, ſaid Butler, I ſaw me before, And in the ſame three Branches and no more, Which budded, ſhooting forth its Bloſſom-flow'rs, Whoſe cluſters all brought forth ſuch Grapes as ours; The Cup of Pharaoh being in my hand, I took, and preſs'd them in at his command; Who afterward both took and did it drink. This is the ſum of what I dream'd I think. is this the thing you have a mind to know? Come, rouze your Spirit, it needs not be ſo low; The Branches three, as many days portend, Before the end of which the King will ſend For you, and to your wonted place reſtore, His Cup to bear, as you was wont before. When this Prediction is fulfill'd on thee, Be ſure to put the King in mind of me: And tell him, though he have Magicians ſtore, Yet there's an Hebrew Lad that knoweth more Than all of them; and this a mean will be From Bonds and Priſon for to ſet me free; For I indeed an Hebrew ſtol'n was, And hither brought, I know not for what cauſe; Where now again, without a crime I lie In this dark Cell, and may do till I die. In this young man, ſaid the Baker, well, And will adventure mine alſo to tell. Three Baskets white I had upon my head, In which were ſeveral ſorts of meat and Bread Which I to Pharaoh brought; but e'r I came Birds flockt about my head, and eat the ſame. This Dream of yours will prove but bad I fear, And therefore, Sir, I beg you would forbear To urge from me what it doth ſignifie; Take this for all, that you muſt quickly die. I fear not that, ſay on, I will approve Of that my Friend reveals to me in love. My life I will reſign moſt willingly, If of my Service Pharaoh weary be. If't muſt be ſo, The Baskets that you wore, Predict, that e'r three days be o're You ſhall be hang'd, and Birds your fleſh ſhall eat. This is the viſion of your baked meat. Make ſure of Heaven, thy part on Earth is done. Now by this time roſe third days ſparkling Sun; Where God ordaining, Pharaoh made a Feaſt Upon his Birth-day, unto all the reſt Of them that were his Servants; by and by In frolick humonr he aloud did cry, Go, bring the Baker and the Butler up, This man is fitteſt to give me the Cup: As for the other, his laſt doom ſhall be To be lift up, and hanged on a Tree. The honour which the Princes favour lends May be call'd in, and then in ſhame it ends. Good turns are ſoon forgot, a Proverb ſure, For guiltleſs Joſeph muſt as yet endure. Courtiers uſe not always to keep word, Although the make their Vows unto the Lord, Whoſe time's the beſt to ſet our Captive free; Though two full years he muſt in Priſon be, Till Pharaoh dreams that he by Water ſide Stands, and Seven Fat well-favourd Kine eſpi'd Come up from thence, as alſo ſeven lean, And joyn'd to th' other; thoſe when he had ſeen Stood horror-ſtruck, and what th' event might be, Wait, 'twas not long before that he did ſee Thoſe ſcurvey lean-fleſh'd Beaſts the other eat, And yet ſtill looking poor, and wanting meat. So Pharaoh 'woke, till ſlumber had his eyes Cloſed, and then the ſecond time he ſpies Seven Ears of Corn come up both good and rank, Seven others alſo that were poor and lank; And as the other Lean, did Fat devour, Theſe eat the Rank likewiſe that very hour. This doubled Phantaſme ſo perplex'd the heart Of Egypt's King, that he muſt both impart To his Magicians, willing them to ſee If they could tell what either ſignifie. We are confounded, cry the Sophi's, Lord Of theſe thy dreams we cannot tell one word. This unexpected anſwer ſo rouz'd up The memory of him that bore the Cup, Who thus expreſt himſelf unto the King; My Lord, I've ſinned in this very thing: Pharaoh well knows that he with me was wrath, And with the Baker alſo ſent me forth Unto the Priſon, where we both did lie, Till our ſad Dreams an Hebrew did eſpie; Who told me of it, as it ſince hath prov'd, Saying, the Butler needs not to be mov'd, For he ſhall be reſtor'd; but Baker he Shall by the King condemn'd and hanged be. Theſe tydings pleas'd the King beyond all meaſure, Who priz'd the meaning of his dreams 'bove treaſure. Call in the young man, for he's wiſer far Than all the Sophies that in Egypt are. Run quickly unto Potyphar, and ſay, Pharaoh muſt ſee his Priſoner to day. Where Kings command, the meſſage is obey'd. The Seer's call'd to come in haſte, who ſaid, What, is your haſte ſo great? may I not ſtay Till I be ſhav'd and unto Heaven pray, And change my Garments alſo, ſince you ſee I am not fit before your King to be? He comes—Sweet Youth, ſaid Pharaoh, but declare What theſe my Dreams mean, and Garland wear. My Butler tells me, if thou hear the Theam Thou canſt interpret every anxious Dream. My Lord, ſaid he, that Grace is not in me, But God whom I do ſerve can let you ſee A true interpretation from my Mouth; Look well upon me, and deſpiſe not youth, For what my Maker doth to me reveal, That, and no more will I to Pharaoh tell. Say on, my Lord, what was your dream? Why I. Said Pharaoh, ſtood great Nilus River by, And there, behold, ſeven Fat-wel-favour'd Kine Feed in a Mead, and ſaid, Theſe Beaſts are mine: But ſuddenly again to me appear'd Seven other Lean ill-ſhap'd and hanging ear'd, Such as the Land of Egypt never bred; For on the firſt Sev'n Fat when they had fed, Their Bellies clung unto their Backs, and were Ill-favour'd, lean as e'r they were before. Thus I awoke, but when my drouſie eye Was clos'd again with ſleep, I did eſpie Seven Ears of Corn upon one ſtalk that grew So full and good, as yet I never knew. After them came up Seven more was thin And wither'd, as they'd Thunder-blaſted bin, Which ſuddenly the better did devour. And I again wak'd, calling o're and o're On thoſe that ſtudious Magicians were, The truth of theſe my Dreams for to declare; But all of them together anſwered, 'Tis God that caus'd your Dreams, he muſt 'em read. Now, he that would by this thy favour merit, Eliſha-like muſt have Elia's Spirit. Say Hebrew then, the ſmoothneſs of thy brow Tells me, this task will be too hard for you. My youth beſpeaks me ignorant I know, Great Sir, yet ſince the knowledge from below Comes not, that muſt your doubled dream unfold, That which is young by Nature, Grace makes old; By which, I tell you, that your dreams are one, And ſignifie, what Heaven will have done. In Egypt Land the Seven good Ears and Kine Such years portend, this he bids me divine. The ill fleſh'd ones, and blaſted Ears of Corn Foretels a Famine will make Egypt mourn For ſeven more. See, Nile cannot contain The Waters ſent for nouriſhment of Grain; And all things elſe needs moiſture for that ſpace, After which time it will dry up. Alaſs! What I muſt do, I know not, pray be kind, And as of that, of this, Sir, ſpeak your mind. You muſt ſeek out in all the Land diſcreet And wiſe men, who may ſtrictly overſee't. Them bid a fifth part of its fruit to gather; Theſe hard times will require a Nurſing Father. In all thy Cities let it ſtored be, That when the Famine comes they may to thee Repair, and buy it at thy Stewards hand; Elſe this great Scarſeneſs will undo the Land. This thing when Pharaoh and his Servants heard, They thanked Joſeph, and his God they feard, Saying, where ſhall we ſuch another find In whom the Spirit is, and knows his mind. And ſince thy God, ev'n thine hath ſhew'd thee this, None either wiſer or diſcreeter is In all the Kingdom; wherefore thou ſhalt be My Houſe and Servants Ruler, God to me: To ſhew I am in earneſt, take this Ring, And be hereafter next unto the King: Theſe clothes put on, and Chains about thy neck, And let my Subjects pay thee all reſpect; Ride in my ſecond Chariot, then to thee Shall all my Vaſſals humbly bow the knee. While I am Pharaoh, it ſhall be a Law, That all my Kingdom of thee ſtand in aw. No foot or hand in it ſhall moved be, Till firſt they have direction from thee. And ſince thou can'ſt reveal my ſecrets all Zaphanath pa'neah I will ever call Thy name, and thou ſhalt ſurely be the Son. Of Potipherah, who is Prieſt of On. Thus you have ſeen our Joſeph in the Den, Sold and impriſon'd and reſtor'd again. Now what his future happineſs may be, Launch out again with me, and you ſhall ſee The Scene is alter'd, and his celeb life Chang'd for the bleſſing of a vertuous Wife, Who bore before the Famine unto him Two hopeful Males, Manaſ. and Ephraim. The firſt was named ſo, becauſe he had Forgot his Fathers houſe and former Trade. And when the other God did to him ſend, He ſaid, I'le call him Ephraim, for an end Is put to my affliction, and my ſtore Increaſed is, and Honour more and more. The Plentie's ended, and the Famine come: Said Pharaoh, Joſeph, let us now go home. The truth of all that thou haſt ſaid I ſee, By th' hungry peoples crying unto me For maintenance, I know not what to ſay To ſtill their clamour, only that they may Repair to thee for anſwer, and receive What thou thinks meet, I know 'tis bread they crave. The Famine now grown over all the Earth, And every Creature ſuffering under dearth, The Store-houſes were opened, and meat The moneyed Egyptians did eat. Yet though he ſold to many of the ſtore The Famine waxed daily more and more; Neither did Egypt only Victuals want, But in all other Countryes Food was ſcant. Yea, even in Cana'n, which was wont to be For plenteouſneſs the Worlds Granary. The Famine plac'd it ſelf in every Face, Which Jacob ſeeing, cryed out, Alaſs! What ſhall we do? we'd better ne'r been born Then die for hunger; yet I hear there's Corn In Egypt, up then, get you down and try If of the Ruler you can any buy. Go thither therefore all of you, ſave one, Him leave with me, I cannot be alone. Father, ſaid they, our lives we owe to you, Can we refuſe then what you bid us do? No, Benjamin ſhall ſtay till we are come With all our Aſſes fully loaden home. Your bleſſing, Sir, e'r we our Journey take, We are all ready, only that we lack. That God's and mine your Journey proſper may, Till ye return I'le never ceaſe to pray. Your Money make full weight, entreat the man, Tell him the Famine's great in Canaan; And that with others you are come to buy Egyptian Corn, your wants that may ſupply. Now unto Zoan Jacob's Sons are come, Saying, is the Lord, the Governor at home? We come from far, O let's obtain the grace To ſpeak, and ſhew him our diſaſt'rous caſe. Lo, I am here, ſaid he, your buſineſs: At this they bow'd to the Earth and could expreſs Nothing; his Glory and their preſent grief Ties up their Tongues, they cannot ask relief. The Prince again, who all their Faces knew, Stranged himſelf from them, and angry grew, Saying, whence come you? ſurely you are Spies; The countenance often the heart betrayes. This rough expreſſion ſo encreas'd their fear, That trembling they reply, No, Sir, this year Our Syrian Land was parch'd and nothing bore, Meer want made us come unto thee for ſtore. Go, go, you lye, I know your whiſpering Perſwadeth me that there is no ſuch thing; But Villains come the nakedneſs to view Of this our Land, and then himſelf withdrew. Nay, Good my Lord, ſaid they, our Story hear, We all Sons unto one, and true men are; Mark what we ſay, and if we tell you Lyes, Then, and not elſe conclude that we are Spies. Tuſh, this is nothing, every man will ſay As much, if ſo by that he cleared may Be, but if you give not a better reaſon Of your down coming, I will ſwear there's Treaſon Intended. Then we're twelve, reply'd the other, Brethren, of whom you ſee ten, and another At home, his Fathers joy, and one is not. Ha, now, that you be Spies I ſurely wot; And ſo for all your words, I ſhall you prove, If you bring not to me your Fathers Love. Chooſe out among you one, and for him ſend, Till then our Controverſie cannot end, Nor you be clear, if you do not, I ſwear By Pharaoh's Life, that you vile Vagrants are. Go, bring the Lad, his Face when I do ſee, I'le ſay all's true that ye have ſaid to me. Reſolve, this Priſon muſt be your abode Till all agree, this do, live, I fear God; If ye be true men, then let one of you Be bound in Priſon, where you all are now, And let the reſt take Corn that may ſupply Your wants at home, leſt they for hunger die In this great Famine, only bring the Boy: It's truth, I ſeek to prove, not to deſtroy Your lives; to which they 'gree, and ſay t' each other, We guilty are concerning our dear Brother, Who to his anguiſh't Soul ſo hard'ned were, That when he pray'd his plaint we would not hear; For which, in Juſtice our Almighty God Doth lay on us this his afflicting Rod. Then Reuben unto them reply'd, and ſaid, Did I not tell you ſo, when faſt you laid Your hands upon the Boy, but did no good; Therefore of us required is his blood. This they among themſelves in Hebrew ſpake, Thinking that Joſeph could no notice take; For ſeeing one who (as his part requir'd) Interpreted what they of him deſir'd, And unto them what his Lords anſwer was; They ſpake their minds aloud about the cauſe Of their diſtreſſes, which when Egypt's Lord Had heard, he turn'd from them without a word. His ſympathizing Soul ſwell'd ſo high, That he muſt either quickly burſt or cry. See, where Gods Spirit dwells no hatred lives, He turns again, communes, in heart forgives Their ancient Crime, yet ſeemingly unkind He from them Simeon takes, and him doth bind, And then commands his Servants for to fill Their Sacks with Corn, not leaving off until They ſaid they had enough; the money he Bids put into their Sacks mouths moſt ſecretly. Proviſion for their way bids alſo take, Saying, here's enough, I would not have you lack, Nor yet diminiſh ought that ye have bought; It's pity you ſhould come ſo far for naught. Their Aſſes now when they all loaded had, From Egypt ſoon they their departure made, Travelling hard till it was time to bait Their Aſſes, and themſelves had need to eat Their Dinner over, Beaſts now to be proven'd, One his Sack opens, and cryes out, I'm coſen'd, Did you not all ſee me my money pay, And yet 'tis here in my Sacks mouth this day? This quickly made their joyful Faces lowr, And curſe the day and the unhappy hour, When they their Brother ſold. It ſurely is For vengence, ſaid they, that our God doth this; Up, and let's load again, till we our place In Canaan ſee, and our old Fathers face, That from his wiſe and long experience May gather'd be, what can proceed from hence. Now they're returned home and do relate To Jacob, how the Steward did them hate, All which we might well by his car'age gather; But, Ah! ſaid they, this was not all dear Father, For he would not convinced be, but we Muſt needs be ſpies, come Egypt for to ſee; And though we ſpoke the truth, all this he urg'd May come from Subtile Rogues, and ſo be forg'd; But if you will prove true, ſaid he, leave one Till ye have brought me Jacob's little Son. This we were forc'd to do, Simeon is there, And muſt, till Ben our Brother doth repair Thither with us, when we go next to buy, Whoſe ſight will work poor Sim's delivery, And our free Traffick throughout all the Land; Of this we have the Rulers Word and Hand. But pray let's ſee your Corn if it be right, Said Jacob, ſure your Money was full weight. You ſhall, Dear Father; bring the Aſſes nigh, That we may empty't in the Granary. Lift up this Sack, 'tis of unuſual weight, Pray God there be not here another ſlight; Look, here's my Money, mine, and mine, and mine. And all of ours, as ſure as thou had'ſt thine. At this Adventure all of them are ſad, Saying, what ſhall we do, our caſe is bad? But moſt of all old Jacob, whoſe gray Head Shakes with a Palſie, and falls down half dead, Wringing his feeble hands, his ſighs declare What his ſad thoughts of this Adventure were. They'll count you Thieves, ſaid he, O how I grieve! Moreover now, who can my Son relieve? Of Joſeph and of Simeon I'm bereav'd, And now poor Ben. is alſo from me crav'd. But hold, before this his requeſt I'le grant Simeon I'le loſe, and die my ſelf of want. Not ſo, Dear Father, ſaid the eldeſt Son, Your will in all things elſe I will have done: But he muſt go, whom if I bring not back, Then here I leave two Sons, them you ſhall take And ſlay: Dear Sir, the charge lay upon me; A good event, I hope, you'll quickly ſee. Son, hold thy peace, my darling being dead, Would you his Brother alſo from me lead? No, he muſt not go down, for if he do, My dayes are done, and I muſt leave you too: That ſorrow my gray hairs will bring to grave, Leave off this ſuit, and any thing elſe crave I will it grant— As greateſt Stocks, that always are impair'd, Without ſupply, diminiſh, ſo it far'd With Jacob and his Sons, who now begin To feel their fleſh (for want) waſte, and their skin A withered complexion put on, While through the ſame, they might diſcern the bone The very laſt of their Egyptian ſtore Eat up, the old man called out once more Unto his Sons, and ſaid, Go down again To Egypt, and bring Simeon with our grain. Whence Judah took occaſion to expreſs Himſelf at large about the buſineſs In hand; The man, ſaid he, made proteſtation, That neither we nor any other Nation Should any thing receive, or ſee his face, Unleſs that Ben. came down in Simeon's place. If thou wilt ſend our Brother, then we may Go down and buy more food, elſe ceaſe I pray, We dare not. Unto which he did reply, Why was ye ſo unwiſe as to deſcry My Boy, or give him ſuch a ſtrict account Of me, and to what number mine did mount? It was not in our power that to conceal, Said they, the man was ſtrict and made us deal Thus plainly; for he ſaid, Have you a Father Alive or Brother, nay, or Brethren rather? This made us ſpeak the Truth, but never thought That he would ſay, let Benjamin be brought, Or that he would have proved ſo unkind As to take Simeon from us, and him bind. Father, continu'd Judah, if with me You ſend the Lad, we'll go, I'le ſurety be, And of my hand you ſhall again require Him, deareſt Father, grant me my deſire; This will not only prove us to be true, But purchaſe food, and Simeon home to you. Fear not, good Sir, if I do not reſtore Him ſafe again, I'le bear the blame therefore For ever; had we not thus lingered, We had return'd the ſecond time with Bread. Well, well my Sons, then if it muſt be ſo, Said he, my Counſel take before ye go. Of all our beſt fruits you ſhall quickly gather Some, and preſent them unto Egypts Father. A little Balm, and Myrrhe, and Honey take, With Spice and Almonds, Nuts, a Preſent make; With double money alſo in your hand, And that you carri'd laſt into the Land Reſtore, perchance it was an overſight. Then take my Son your Brother, do what's right, And let Jehovah give you mercy when You come before the man that doth retain Your Brother, and let Benjamin come back. At this his Blood boil'd, and theſe words he ſpake; I ſee there is no probability But of my Boyes I muſt bereaved be. However, get you hence, I truſt my God Will give me ſtrength to bear this heavy load. This was the Farewell which old Jacob took Of all his Sons when Cana'n they forſook, And unto Egypt with the Preſent went, The double Money which their Father ſent. Benjamin alſo with the reſt went down To ſee the Ruler and view Memphis Town, Who are no ſooner 'lighted then deſcry'd By Joſeph, who, when Benjamin he ſpy'd, Call'd unto Ramſes haſtily, and ſaid, Diſpatch with Dinner, is the Cloth yet laid? Prepare more Victuals than was wont to be, For theſe 11 men at Noon muſt dine with me. 'Tis done my Lord. Gentlemen, follow me Into the Hall, the Prince deſires that ye Such entertainment as the Houſe affords Receive with welcome, as doth Egypt's Lords. This unexpected carriage ſo amaz'd The new-made-Gueſts, that each on other gaz'd, And ſaid, we may now eaſily perceive The entertainment we are like to have. This is the Rulers Houſe where now we be, Death or vile ſlavery is our deſtinie. That pithie Sentence is not ſeldom true, Love quickly turns to hate that is but new. We know the drift, 'tis for our moneys ſake Was in our Sacks, that he this courſe doth take. 'Tis like the Steward knoweth for what end We are brought in, try, if he be our Friend He'll give us ſome accompt; he that's forearm'd, As Proverb ſaith, is alſo partly warn'd. Let's commune with him, and excuſe our ſelves For this our Money, there is no way elſe That can be taken, this we will relate, Which done, he'll either ſhew his love or hate. Sir, at the firſt when we came to buy food, We paid money for it, that was good. Full weight it was, but ſhortly after how It came into our Sacks, we know not now. Our ignorance we hope will be excus'd: Here is our Money, we have not refus'd It to repay, and other Money too At this time brought to buy more food of you. Pray reſt contented and be not afraid, Said Ramſes, ſeeing Jacob's God hath laid Treaſure into your Sacks; what I did crave I had, and Simeon is no more a Slave. Lo, here is Water, pleaſe you waſh your Feet, And I my ſelf will give your Aſſes meat. By this aſſurance they ſo cheared are, That in his abſence they their Gift prepare Againſt the Lords incoming, ſeeing they Should ſee his face, and dine with him that day. Now the Clock ſtrikes, Servants begin to run Each to his Office, waiting the return Of Zaphnapaa'neah, who came in and ſtood Like glorious Phoebus, when from under cloud; Whoſe ſparkling ſplendor dazled the eyes Of all, but moſt his Brethren, whom he ſpies With piercing aſpect; this his love exerts To them, whom conſcious of their own deſerts, Bow'd to the Earth their Heads, and ſaid, My Lord, Accept ſuch things as Cana'n doth afford. Who ſmil'd and took the Preſent, ſaying, How Doth your old Father, and your ſelves all now? Is he yet living? Doth his Silver Threads Yet ſhine? They anſwer, Yes, with bowed heads. At laſt the Ruler ſpieth out his Brother, Ev'n Benjamin, the Son of his own Mother; And ſaid, My Friends, is this the youngeſt Lad, When you were here, you ſaid your Father had? I gueſs it is, his count' nance ſpeaks no leſs. Thou'rt as my Son, whom God Almighty bleſs. This he pronounced with ſuch vehemency, That Tears appear'd in his melting Eye, Though Pow'r and Policy bid him refrain, His face is waſh'd, and he returns again, And bids them ſet on Bread, 'tis quickly done, For all the reſt together, him alone; And for the Egyptians by themſelves, whoſe meat Was not the ſame with that which Joſeph eat, Being unto them a great abomination To feed on ſuch things as the Hebrew Nation. Now all is ready, Chaplain ſay the Grace, And let each Stranger ſet as is his place: He that is eldeſt bid him firſt go in, And let the reſt aſſede, then Benjamin. Judge you if Joſeph did not give them cauſe To think that he once their Domeſtick was, He can ſo well their Birth and Age diſcern, They marvel at it, yet doth nothing learn. Come, Trenchers here: Carver cut up this Diſh, And reach me hither that ſame boyled Fiſh. Sir, take this Meſs, and you, and you, and you; You're welcome all: they thank him with a Bow. But, Oh! methinks that young man is not ſerv'd, In a Cooks Shop I would have no man ſtarv'd. Here, Ramſes, reach the laſt man this from me; This ſeen, the reſt did wonder why't ſhould be: That of him he ſhould take ſuch ſpecial care, And furniſh with more than a five-fold ſhare. As Meat of all ſorts, ſo the Drink was free, For Joſeph ſaid, with you I'le merry be. The Grace-Cup's over, now let us go on To ſing of all the Rulers kindneſs ſhown. Their Sacks he firſt commands to fill, and then Their money to be put in them again. Next take my Cup, my Silver Cup, ſaid he, And in Ben's Sack's mouth let it hidden be, With his Corn-money when he hath it paid. All is perform'd, My Lord, as you have ſaid. The joyful Brethren, e'r it was light day, That Morning with their Loads are ſent away; Though they have ſcarcely paſt the City Walls, When Hue and Cry's ſent out; Conſtable calls: Stand thankleſs Wretches: tell me what's the cauſe That ye have thus ev'n broken Natures Laws, And all the Rules of Hoſpitalitie. You ſaid, we're true men, but ye robbers be; My Lords, both drinking and divining Cup, (Deny it not) you, you have taken up. Was this requital for your Noble Feaſt? Reſtor't again, may be ye took't in Jeſt: Nay, but you Jeſt, ſaid they, we hope your Lord Hath ſent you unto us with no ſuch word; For though we here be Strangers, yet the chief At home we are, we need not play the thief. Did we not with us treble Money bring? Why then ſhould we have ſtol'n this petty thing? If you among us do the Goblet find, Hang him that took it, and the reſt Slaves bind. You've ſaid enough, yet it muſt not be ſo, But he that took it Servant back ſhall go, And you be blameleſs, for it were too much That one ſhould die, and th'reſt be kept for ſuch A crime: then to't, ſaid Reuben, to the reſt, Pull down your Sacks, and open them in haſte. Let this unthought-of ſearch with me begin, And ſo go on to Brother Benjamin. When all of them had narrowly been try'd, Except the laſt, then was the Cup deſcry'd, Which brought upon them ſuch a ſudden fear, That ſome their cloths rent, ſome their hair did tear. To ſee theſe mourning Brethren 'twas great pity, Loading their Aſſes, turning to the City. When Judah and his Brethren too were come To Joſeph's Houſe, expecting their laſt doom, He bow'd and ſaid, What ſhall we ſay unto My Lord? What ſhall we ſpeak? What ſhall we do To prove us guiltleſs? ſure God hath found out Our hidden fault, for which without all doubt He doth us puniſh; wherefore we are thine, Becauſe the Cup is found with Benjamin. The Fact is too apparent, yet our God Who ſearcheth Hearts, knows our intended load Was Corn, not Plate; but ſince it muſt be ſo, His will be done, and we no further go. This when the man had heard, he anſwer made, I never yet on any burthens laid More than I thought was juſt, then God forbid That I ſhould any keep, but him who did Convey away my Cup, 'tis only he That I adjudge my Servant for to be; As for the reſt, let them go home in peace, I'le uſe him well although he live by Grace. Then Judah, with a look that ſpoke his fears, Said, Good my Lord, graciouſly deign your ears Unto a few things that I muſt expreſs About my Brother Ben. his buſineſs. Didſt thou not ſtrictly of us all enquire If we had yet a Brother more, or Sire? We anſwer'd, Yes: a comely aged man, Call'd Iſrael, and dwells in Canaan, Who keeps at home with him our youngeſt Brother, His Darling being dead, who was another; Which two fair Rachel to our Father bore. This makes him love the living Lad the more. And thee require of us more earneſtly His coming down, that thou might ſet thine Eye Upon him; but we all with one accord Said, this can ſcarce be granted to my Lord, For if his Father part with him, we fear He will not live with us another year. At this thou (vexed) from us turn'd thy Face, Say'ng, bring him down, or elſe my wonted Grace I will withdraw; which, when we did go home, We told our ancient Father all in ſum, But had no anſwer, till at laſt he ſaid, Riſe, get you down to Egypt for more aid; But we remembring this thy threatning word, Said, none of us dare ſpeak unto the Lord, Or ſee his Face unleſs our Brother go To Egypt with us. Surely it was ſo. Which when our Father heard, he ſigh'd and ſaid, I thought the Corn had been already paid. Muſt I the pledge of Rachel's love forſake, Or elſe want Corn which I do ſo much lack? Certainly this is hard, I am right loath, Seeing one is not, now to part with both. Poor Joſephs death torments me yet with grief, Only this Boy, he gives me ſome relief; If ye then ſeek me of him to deprive I muſt breath out my laſt, and ye ne'r thrive. This, Sir, ſaid he, if any truth there be In man, was ſaid by him, and more to me. You being Judge, can any thing be worſe Than for a Child to have the Fathers curſe? But if I could diſpenſe with that, what can I ſay to him when come to Canaan? His life being bound with his, of this I'm ſure, Without the one the other can't endure. Beſides, to him for this I ſurety came, Saying, if he come not, let me bear the blame For ever. Now let me the favour find To ſtay in place of him; pray, Sir, be kind, And ſend the Boy unto his Father back With joy, that he in him may pleaſure take. Great Sir, if you old Age admire, relief Grant, be not Author of our Fathers grief. This dext' rous Plea with Joſeph took ſuch place. As it was ſoon known by his changed Face, Whoſe frowns do vaniſh, and his threats are gone; Love makes him cry, Go out, leave me alone. He who of late ſpake rough and threatned all, Now weepeth loud, and on their necks doth fall. What means our Ruler? Is not this a wonder, That he who to th'Egyptians ſpeaks like Thunder, Should be ſo much tranſported as to cry, And none but theſe eleven Strangers by! Dear Hearts, I'm Joſeph, doth my Father live? Said he; to which they could no anſwer give: His unexpected Greatneſs and their fault Daunts them as vanquiſh't ſould'ers new aſſault, Till he cryes Quarter, and bids ſhake off fear, Saying, I am Joſeph whom ye ſold, and here Was brought by Merchants; Come, be not afraid, It was not you, but God that for your aid Had order'd all things, and for preſervation Of life hath given unworthy me this Station. Two years already hath the Famine been In Egypt Land, and five yet is not ſeen, In which 'twill be in vain to plow the Land, Becauſe the Mower ſhall not fill his hand; Wherefore your God and mine ſent me before, That I for you and for your houſes ſtore Should make proviſion; he whom I do ſerve Me hither ſent that I might life preſerve, And thought me fitteſt all the Corn to gather That was in Egpypt, and be Pharaohs Father. Haſte then, go up to the Old Man and ſay, Thus ſaith thy Son that was not, I this day Am Lord of Egypt, ſo made by my God, Who wills that thou come down and make abode With me, and Goſhen for thy dwelling place Accept, it's near, there thou mayſt ſee my face. Thy Children, Flocks, and all ſhall nouriſht be; Nothing that's thine ſhall taſte of poverty In theſe five years of Famine. Caſt your eye And view my Limbs and Features, it is I; And let my Brother Benjamin the Youth Look well upon me; Is it not my mouth That ſpeaketh theſe things? pray alſo declare Unto my Father what my Glories are In Egypt, and perſwade him to make haſte To come, and quickly of my Favours taſte. Then turn'd he unto Benjamin, and ſaid, Joy of my Heart, how well am I now paid For all my wiſhes and my pray'rs for thee! Who am admitted once again to ſee My fathers image and my mothers face In thine, dear Brother; God give thee his grace. This ſaid, in token of his true reſpect, He weeps and kiſſes, falls upon his neck; And he again, as far as modeſty Permitted, wept and kiſt moſt ardently. Which though in ſecret done cannot be hid; The Court takes notice what the Ruler did: And that his Brethren come they Pharaoh tell, Who ſaid, I'm glad. Servants, they like it well. Come in, ſaid Pharaoh, Zaph; I mean to ſee, Whether thy father Jacob be like thee. Send for him into Egypt, where his ſtore Shall be ſo much, that he ſhall wiſh no more. This is my will, I hope you'l not neglect To pay your father all the true reſpect You owe: and for their better commodation Chuſe out of Waggons beſt in all the nation For them; the little ones, and all their ſtores, Being perſuaded that the land is yours. As one who's willing to obey his Lord, And ſerve his Father, Joſeph doth accord. Horſes and Chariots quickly are prepar'd By him, who for proviſion nothing ſpar'd. For each of ten had from him change of cloaths, But to his brother Ben. gave five of thoſe. Three hundred pieces as a token he Unto him gave 'bove what his coſt ſhould be: His Fathers Preſent it is greater far, For unto him ten Aſſes loaded are With fineſt Gold, that might ſupply his need, And other ten loaden with Corn and Bread, That might ſuſtain his Father in the way; All which he doth with ſmall or no delay: And then commands that they ſhould thence depart, With ſeeming joy, yet grieved at the heart, Leſt they his Brother Benjamin moleſt, At parting from them, thus himſelf expreſt; Brethren, I hope ye will all cordial be, Till ye to Jacob bring good news of me, Telling him I do live and wiſh him health, And hope that he will ſee me and my wealth. This do, and ſo I hope God will you bring Unto the old man, who is languiſhing For your long ſtay. Theſe are the whole commands Wherewith I wiſh you kiſs my Fathers hands. At home with bowed knees they all ſalute Their aged Father, who for Joy ſtood mute, When he had heard that Joſeph was alive, Ruler in Egypt, and therein did thrive; For ſometimes he believed, and ſometimes not, Becauſe they'd told him that the Lad was not. But to confirm the truth they all declare What with the Ruler their adventures were, And how he ſerv'd them e'r he let them know Whoſe Son he was, or what he did them ow; And alſo ſhow him all the Waggons trim That ſhould to's Son in Egypt carry him. Theſe ſeen, his fainting Spirit did revive, Say'ng, Well, it is enough if Joſeph be alive. Help Lord, for now my Son I muſt go ſee In Egypt land; this done, then let me die. No ſooner had the next Aurora bright With bluſhing Skies ſucceeded gloomy Night, Then Father Iſrael to his Char'ot hies, And reſts not till Beerſheba he deſcries, Where reſting, he commandeth to erect An Altar, whence he might his Pra'rs direct And Sacrifices to the God of Heav'n, Becauſe his odd Sons were again made ev'n. That he a proſperous ſucceſs might have, Of Iſaac's God he doth protection crave In's Journey, and for length of days implores, Till he had ſeen young Joſeph and his Stores. He had not fully ended his devotion, When Suns departure, and the Starry motion Invited him to leave and to take reſt. No, no, ſaith Jacob, there is no ſuch haſte, I once again will of my God enquire, If he my going Egypt-ward deſire; If he be willing, I will not be ſlack, But if he be not, then I will turn back. This ſaid, from Heav'n he heard a ſudden voice Say'ng, Jacob, Jacob, fear not, but rejoyce; Since I have been thy fathers and thy God, Well be, go there, and ſettle thy abode, The truth to ſhew of this my promiſe made, I'le make thy ſeed as ſand on Sea-ſhore laid. This mighty Nation ſhall victorious be, After four hundred years, when my decree Shall be fulfill'd: then fear not down to go, I'le guide thee there, and bring thee up alſo. No comfort will I from thee keep, thou ſees Thy ſon who was not, he ſhall cloſe thine eyes. Good Jacob raviſh'd with thoſe hea'vnly news Roſe up in haſte, and to his ſons all ſhews, And then commands, with ſpeed that they prepare All things which needful for ther journy were. The Coaches ready, ſome their father heave, Some ſtand within him ready to receive; Their wifes and children have their proper place Into the ſame: and Coachmen drive apace. Their cattel alſo, which were numerous, Gold, Silver, Jewels, Treaſures ponderous Purchas'd in Canaan, theſe they did tranſport To Egypt, whither then they did reſort. Thus Jacob leaves Canaan, and his ſeed Do follow him, becauſe they wanted bread: His Sons, his Daughters, and his Nephews all, Are now deſcended at the Dreamers call: Whoſe exact number then was but three ſcore And ten, of which three had been there before, Joſeph the father, and his children two, Manaſs. and Ephra'm, then he had no mo. When they th'Egyptian borders did deſcry, Jacob to's fourth ſon Judah loud did cry, Go down to Joſeph, bid him tell me where He will me place, I am a ſtranger there: Tell him at Goſhen I will tarry while He come or ſend, and ſhew me what's his will: And howſoever he diſpoſe of me, His word or work to me a law ſhall be. As ſoon as Judah did his brother greet With theſe glad tidings, he prepares to meet His aged father, and before him ſtands, Bows, begs his bleſſing with uplifted hands. And he again (for joy his ſon to ſee) Falls on his neck, kiſſing it ardently, Weeps and embraces; ſo that all admire The ſtrong affections of his aged Sire, Who cry'd aloud, O Joſeph, Jeſeph, now, My darling Joſeph, I am ſure that thou Doſt live; then this I of my God will crave, That he my ſpirit may in haſte receive, Since I am wholly eaſed of the wo Hath me perplex'd theſe twenty years and two. Then Joſeph, who had all this time been ſtop By tears, which from his Princely eyes had dropt, Said, Father, welcom. Now I muſt go home And tell the King that all of you are come, Who (I am ſure) at this will much rejoyce, And give command that I of you diſpoſe Where beſt convenience may for you be had; For this to me he hath already ſaid. And I will tell (if he to know deſire) That you are Shepherds, and you aim no higher. When therefore he ſhall ask of you this thing, You ſhall confirm my words by anſwering, We and our Father Keepers are of Sheep; Which he'll no ſooner hear then's promiſe keep, And give you Goſhen, where you ſafely ſhall Your tender Flocks graſe, and your Cattel all; Your dwellings alſo he will ſet apart: For Shepherds grieve Egyptians at the heart. Now Joſeph leaves his Father in that place, Returns and ſpeaks with Pharaoh Face to Face, Saying, my Father and his Family Are (with their Subſtance) come to viſit thee. Joſeph, ſaid Pharaoh, of this take my hand, I'm glad to ſee thy Father in my Land. Call ſome of them, and let them ſee my Face, Aſſure thy ſelf they ſhall with me find grace. I will, ſaid Joſeph, then he quickly takes Five of his Brethren, and a Preſent makes To Pharaoh, who did inſtantly enquire What is your Trade, or what will you deſire? We're Shepherds and Sojourners in this Land, Whoſe greateſt errand is to kiſs thy hand; The next to ſee our Brother, and have place Our Flocks to feed; in Canaan there's no graſs: The piercing Drought ſo ſcorched hath the land, That there is nothing to be ſeen but Sand: If therefore we ſhall of thee favour find, Grant's Goſhen Paſtures, and for this we'll bind Our ſelves to be thy Subjects, and our Seed Of thee and thine ſhall ſtand in Kingly dread. Then Pharaoh unto Joſeph did reply; Since they'r come down, what will I them deny? My Crown but ſpare, and ask what e'r they pleaſe; I'le give all things conducing to their eaſe. My Land's before them: as for their requeſt, In Goſhen for them Dwellings make in haſte. And for a greater proof of love to thee, Chooſe out among them ſome will active be, And put my Cattel all into their hands; Their hire from me let it be Gold and Lands. But pray thee Joſeph, where's thy aged Sire, His face to ſee I have a great deſire. Greateſt of Kings you ſhall, lo, here he is. This ſaid, old Iſrael doth great Pharaoh bleſs, Saying, my Lord the King of Kings protect Your Sacred Perſon; and ſince you reſpect Me and my Sons, I'le never ceaſe to pray For you with hands to Heav'n lift night and day. My thanks, ſaid Pharaoh, now I muſt be bold To ask one queſtion, I would know how old Thou art? Good Jacob ſoon this anſwer made; An hundred thirty ſummers I have had; As many winters have I alſo been In pilgrimage, unſettled I mean: Yet few and evil, if you'l deign to look Upon a Line in this my Table-book, Where is inſerted faithful Abrahams age, An hundred and ſeventy five his ſtage Completes, my father Iſaac liv'd five more; Though all this time their grievances were ſore. This ſaid, the old man looking round about, Bleſſeth the King, takes leave, and walketh out. Now come (ſaid he) Son, ſince you know I have Your Kings good will, a fitting place I crave, Where I and all my Children ſafe may be From all Sedition and Conſpiracy. Then Joſeph beckn'd to his Sire, and ſaid, Rameſes is the beſt that can be had; There take poſſeſſion, this my Lord commands. Theſe are your Writings ſigned with our hands. The famine's great, yet Joſeph wills that he Since come to Egypt have no ſcarcity Of bread, tho'in Canaan'd Egypt there was want, In ſo much that the moſt began to faint For hunger, but that Egypts Nurſing Father Its currant money into ſtores did gather. And ſuch as from Canaan was brought to buy Corn, he doth put into th' Treaſury. Now Egypts money doth begin to waſte, Which made the Natives run to him in haſte, And ſay, Sir, you muſt grant us freſh ſupply Of bread and corn, or elſe for want we die. There's none but you can grant us any aid. Who anſwered, You've got as much as paid: But this my counſel is, which if you take, To bring your cattel you will not be ſlack, And them for corn and bread exchange with me. What profit they if you of famine die? The hunger-ſtarv'd Egyptians at this Do much rejoyce, yea and with bleſſing bleſs The Ruler, and with chearful hearts do bring Their Horſes, Cattel, Flocks, and every thing, Except their Land, all's laid at Joſephs feet, Who willingly receiv'd, and gave them meat. Poor creatures, they had good cauſe to fear, For this proviſion ended with that year, Was but the fixth ſince that great want began, When it was ended they to Joſeph ran Again for more, lay'ng out their wretched caſe, And ſaying to him, We muſt die alaſs! Our Money gone, our Cattel you did crave, We brought them, now our Land is all we have; Come buy this alſo: let's not ſtarved be, And we our ſelves will ſerve our King and thee. Let us have Seed that we again may try Whether our Land as yet will fructifie. At this his tender heart is fill'd with grief, And eyes with tears, which way for their relief Procures, for he to Pharaoh makes it o're, Making him Landlord who was King before. Their ancient Livings he bids them forſake, And for the future other Dwellings take, For which they ſhould to Pharaoh Egypts King, As to the owner yearly Rent in bring. But to the Prieſts there was more kindneſs ſhow'n, Who parted with no Land that was their own; For they on that which was to them allow'd, Liv'd all that while as when the Land was plow'd. Then Joſeph ſaid, Behold! I have you buught, Your land and all; I'm ſure there is not ought Which is not Pharaohs, wherefore take you Seed And ſow in haſte, I know you will not need To fear the Famine, this is the laſt year Of Egypt's drought, you know hath coſt you dear; Its former increaſe you again ſhall have, Of which a Fifth Part I will yearly crave For Pharaoh's uſe, the Four that is behind Diſpoſe of that according to your mind, For Seed, for Food, for you and for your Store; Fear not, it will be fruitful as before. With bowed heads and chearful countenance They thus reply, Since we our ſuſtenance Theſe barren years had from our Lord and thee Be gracious to us, we your Servants be. It is enough we live to ſerve our King, What he commands, that will we to him bring. Only the Prieſts did this great Tax eſcape, For all they ſow'd, all to themſelves they reap. Behold, the kindneſs of an Heathen King, To thoſe who did but helliſh Sophiſmes ſing. Yet all this while Joſeph hath not forgot To ſettle on Jacob the moſt happy Lot In all the Land of Goſhen, where he might Dwell happily, and have thereof full right. Now that Gods Promiſe might fulfilled be, He multiplies and grows exceedingly. When he in Egypt 17 years had been Moſt proſperous, and his Sons glory ſeen Of Age a 147, then he Prepares himſelf Deaths Captive for to be; For calling Joſeph's Father and his Child, And looking with a countenance moſt mild, Dear Son, ſaid he, Age makes me now believe That I muſt Egypt and my Children leave. This heard, the Ruler's heart is fill'd with grief, And Eyes with tears. No Son there's no relief, Said Jacob, Seventeen years I've liv'd in thee, Now 'tis enough, my God I muſt go ſee. Yet while I live one thing I muſt implore, Grant it my Child, as thou haſt done much more; Which is, when dead, that then in Canaan I May buried be, and with my Fathers lie. This granted, he commands him for to ſwear That he his Corps to Macpelah will bear; And then in token of his thankfulneſs He leans on's Bed, and doth his Maker bleſs. Sad tidings ſoon ſounds in the Rulers ear After's departure, that his Father dear Was ill at eaſe, and willed him in haſte To pay'm a Viſit e'r his life was paſt: Who willed quickly that his Children two Should ready be, for they muſt with him go To ſee their Grandſire, it is his command; Obeying, they in travelling poſture ſtand: Scarce had they entered into the Town When one to Jacob haſtily runs down, And tells him that his Sons and his two O'es Were come to ſee his end, and to diſpoſe Of him: this heard, he once again revives, And to ſet up upon his bed he ſtrives; Saying to Joſeph, God appear'd to me, When I from Eſau's fury down did flee To Padan Aram, and at Luz me gave The Promiſe that I ſhould Canaan have, And bleſſed me, ſaying, that of my Bloud Should there be born ev'n a huge multitude, It to poſſeſs until Times fulneſs ſhall Come, when they for their Sins ſhall from it fall. Then ſince I'm ſure that all the Land is mine, I'le give a ſhare unto theſe two of thine, Were born in Egypt e'r I hither came, As Reuben, Simeon, theſe ſhall bear my name; But all the reſt are ſince by thee begot, They ſhall be thine, and have of thee their Lot Among their Brethren, yet they muſt not be Call'd Heads or Tribes of their poſterity. But whoſe are theſe two Youths that ſtand me by? If they be thine, then let them both draw nigh That I may bleſs them, being glad to ſee Thy ſelf once more, and thy poſterity. Now having kiſs'd them, he ſaid, Once I thought Ne're to have ſeen thee, nor be hither brought; But bleſſed be that God who ſpared me Joſeph, Manaſſ. and Ephra'm for to ſee. This done, he takes them from between his Feet, Making them ſtand before him as was meet: Manaſſ. on's left, and Ephra'm on's right ſtand, That on them both at once he might lay hand; But he inſpir'd of God looks not to years, Nor yet for Doteage the firſt-born forbears: For on the younger he layes on his right, In him it ſeems God had the moſt delight, Minding to make him Head of all the Tribe, Without reſpect of perſon, age, or bribe. Then to his Son he ſaid, now I will crave That you all Bleſſings of that God may have, With whom my Sire and Grandſire both did walk, And with him often face to face did talk, Who from Canaan led me out this way, And hath me fed at all times as this day. The Angel Great, which doth my Soul redeem, Bleſs both the Lads, and have them in eſteem: And let them have mine and my fathers name; Make thou them great, do thou enlarge their fame, Encreaſe their ſeed for number as the ſand On the Sea-ſhore in their Grandfathers Land. But Joſeph wroth to ſee the form invert, Says to his father grieved at the heart, Not ſo (dear Sir,) this is the eldeſt boy; Put here your right, he is the onely joy Of me his father. No, ſaith Jacob, no; Though what you ſay be true I rightwell know; Yet fear not, for he ſhall be very great, But this much more, neither by ſtrength nor fate, But by that power that laid the Earths foundations He ſhall become a multitude of Nations. Such bleſſings that day he to Joſeph gave, As greater after Iſrael ſhould not crave. If any can but Ephra'ms bliſs obtain, It will be ever counted greateſt gain. Then Jacob ſaid, Behold, I die; but God Shall viſit you, and while you have abode In Egypt, he will ever be a Watch, Leſt by theſe Heathens any harm ye catch, And bring you up into your fathers land; He, he will do it by's Almighty hand. Moreover thou from me haſt got a portion, Which I ne'r purchas'd by craft or extortion From th' Amorites, but by my ſword and bow; This on thy ſelf and thine I do beſtow. Now Jacob finding 's laſt glaſs almoſt out, Calls for his ſons, who compaſs him about, Liſtning for what he thither did them call; Who ſaid, Sons, hear what will to you befall In the laſt days, when your old father's gone, Strengthen your ſelves, your trouble comes anon. Reuben my eldeſt, pray do thou draw near To me thy Parent, and thy verdict hear: In dignity thou didſt excell and power Thy brethren all, untill that fatal hour When to thy fathers bed thou didſt advance; This made me rob thee of th' Inheritance. Becauſe as water thou unſtable waſt, Thy Eminence and Dignity is paſt. This ſaid, from him he turns his face about To Sim. and Levi, whoſe ſentence goeth out: You brethren are by conſanguinity, And no leſs ally'd in your cruelty. Your habitations they are full of bloud, And might you grieve if rightly underſtood; For in your anger you the Sech'mites ſlew, Robbing the Town of riches not a few; The City alſo raz'd unto the ground; Such horrid Facts, I think, hath not been found. Curs'd be your anger, I will you divide 'Mong other Tribes as ſtrangers to abide. As for thee, Judah, thou ſhalt praiſed be By all thy Brethren and Poſteritie; Thy Foes thou ſhalt ſubdue, and they adore Shall thee with princely Homage, nay, and more, As Lion fierce is terrible, ſo thou Shalt be to all, and all thou ſhalt ſubdue. Yea, for a greater Bleſſing thou ſhalt hold Thy kingly Scepter till Predictions old Shall come to paſs, and the Meſſias ſhall Come from thy Loyns, and rid men out of thrall; And all thy Land be fill'd with beſt of Wine, Thy Grapes ſhall yeild great ſtore of Liquor fine; So that thou may, as in a mighty flood Thy Garments waſh into the grapie blood. Zebulun, thou ſhalt ſtill a dweller be In pleaſant places ſituate by the Sea, So that by Shipping thou mayſt have commerce With other Nations who of Ware are ſcarce: Thy Borders alſo I will ſo extend, That they in length ſhall come to Zidon's end. Son Iſſachar, I know thine inclination Is ſuch, that thou deſir'ſt a quiet ſtation, Free from command, and ſtill will bowing be Thy back to all the burthens laid on thee. Dan, as an Adder or a Serpent ſlie Thou to thine En'mies evermore ſhalt be, And ſubt'ly ſhall all of them overthrow, If not their Head, I'm ſure thou'lt ſting below, And now, O Lord, ſince well I know this Boy Shall en'mies have that will him much annoy, Do thou aſſiſt him in's extremity, That at the laſt he may victo'rous be. Gad, much affliction doth on thee attend, Yet all thoſe Troops thou'lt conquer in the end. Aſher, Earths fulneſs ſhall be thy Lot, Affording Royal Dainties and what not. Naphthali, on both parts thou dextrous are, Lover of Peace, and yet can follow War. Joſeph, thou as a fruitful Bough ſhalt be, Set by a Wall, thy Grapes ſhall multiply, And Branches by the Suns reflections ſhall Grow to ſuch height as ſhall ſurmount a Wall. Though Brethren, Jempſar, Potiphar, all three Thy life did ſeek, and Arrows ſhot at thee, Yet God, thy God thy Bow kept in ſuch ſtrength, That ſpight of all, thou did'ſt o'rcome at length, And made the Shepherd to his Iſra'l-flock So that thou was to them both Staff and Rock. From God, thy Fathers God thou ſhalt receive All things ſoever thou deſir'ſt to have. Is't pleaſant Seaſons? this the mighty hand Will grant to thee, do but the ſame demand. Is't liquid Fountains? Fowls that flying be, Or Fiſhes? Call, 'tis he commands the Sea. Is't food or clothing? Beaſts on every hill Are his; I know thou'lt have them at thy will. Or is it Children? Do but them deſire, He'll grant ſo many ſhall make thee admire: Thy Grandſires bleſſing, Iſaac's, mine, all three While hills endure ſhall ever bide with thee; And on his head they ever ſhall remain, Whom cruel brethren thought once to have ſlain. Benjamin, thou ſhalt ſtill a Warriour be, And ever have thy ſword upon thy thigh, To kill and rob, and to divide the ſpoil, Thou ſhalt be bent, and think of it no toil. Here have you Jacobs ſons all numbered; Here have ye all that he unto them ſaid. Here all the bleſſings he before his death In his laſt Legacy did to them bequeath; Here is the charge that he unto them gave Concerning's burial in the Hittite's Cave, Which Abra'm bought in Ephrons field to be A burial-place for his poſterity. Here was he buried and his Sarah dear: Rebecea 'nd Iſaac were interred here. Here Leah alſo laid into this field, For which Abra'm did five ſcore pieces yield Unto the ſons of Heth, who were right loath It to receive, till he had ſworn an Oath, That of them he would not take it for nought, They do agree, the Cave is ſold and bought. Ah! I have ſpoke too long, my Spirits fail, Said Jacob, ſee my Face and Hands grow pale. This ſcarce was utter'd when his Heart had loſt Its faculties, and he gives up the Ghoſt. When Joſeph ſaw the death of's aged Sire, His filial love the Brethren all admire, Who ſaid, thou'rt gone, and I am left alone, Oh! thou art gone, I cannot chuſe but moan. Oh! thou art gone, my only Father dear. Oh! thou being gone, what comfort have I here? At this the tears ſo ruſhed from his Eyes, That no by-ſtander could withhold their cryes; For he his pale Face kiſs'd and cry'd aloud To the Phyſitians who about him ſtood, Come take this Body, take it out from me, Embalme it well, let nothing wanting be. This his command they willingly embrace, Taking his Father from before his Face, And ſweeteſt ſmelling Spices do prepare, For this laſt Rite, he had enough to ſpare. They never reſted for ſix Weeks a day His Corps to dreſs e'r he was ta'ne away. Is this all? No, a Winder greater far, The Outlaw Heathen for him Mourners are Nine Weeks of Dayes; which ended, Joſeph takes His Fellow-Rulers by, and to them ſpeaks, You know in Egypt 'tis a ſtrict Decree That none in Mourning may with Phara • be, Nor any conference in this poſture have With him, for which I earneſtly do crave That you would go and make the King acquaint That my old Father, while his pulſe was faint, Commanded me to ſwear a ſolemn Oath (Should I it break, I think he will be loath.) That I ſhould bury 'm in his Fathers Grave, Pray bid him grant it, this is all I crave. And if he fear that I will not come back, He may my Sons of me for Pledges take. Thus leaving Joſeph, all of them depart, Who waiteth their return with grieved heart. No ſooner had they told the King his caſe, Than he with ſighing anſwered, Alaſs! Is Jacob dead, my Father-Rulers Father? And ſhall I hinder? Nay, I'le further rather. Make all the haſte he can, then come to me, Till his return I ſhall not quiet be. When Joſeph heard the Kings benevolence, He thank'd the Rulers and departed thence. Then called all his Servants and his Kindred, Who come unto him, none of them is hindred: The Kings own Servants and the Rulers be In readineſs the Corps to companie. Then Joſeph doth this Funeral Journey take With more than Thouſands armed at his back. E'r Titan roſe from out his watry Bed, Or with his ſpangled Traces overſpread The ſpacious Azure, Chariots make a noiſe, At which the prancing Horſes all rejoyce; Coach-men drive hard, ſo that e'r it was nigh Sun-ſetting next, Canaan they eſpy. To't yet, ſaid Joſeph, here we will not reſt, But will to Atad, where we ſhall have beſt Accommodation for our numerous Train; I know the place, it is a ſpacious Plain Well hedg'd in; there we may ſafely lie Until the reſt we for the Funeral buy. This was concluded, and o'r Jordan they Came, to the place of their appointed ſtay; Where 'lighting down, their Mourners ſo cry'd out For full ſeven days, that all were round about Came running for to ſee what it might be Made all theſe ſtrangers weep ſo bitterly, Whoſe ſympathy admir'd the place they call Abel-mizraim unto Ages all. This Ceremony ended, they the Vow Perform, made to their Father while below, And buri'd him in his Grand-ſires Cave; This was the laſt thing he did of them crave. Now Joſeph to his Pharaoh doth return, Who for his abſence never ceas'd to mourn. Thou'rt welcome Joſeph, ſaid the Egyptian King, What news doſt thou to me from Canaan bring? All good my Lord, with which he made a bow; But, Ah! I fear I've ſtayd too long from you. No, no, I'm glad again to ſee thy face, Said he, for ſtill thou ſhalt with me find grace. By this time's Brethrens hearts began to burn, Thinking that he ſoon after his return Would them afflict for their long cover'd crime, Which to prevent, a Meſſenger in time They ſend to Joſeph, who this meſſage bore; Our, and thy Father who is now in glore, Commanded us thy Pardon for to crave, Though we deſerved other things to have For our outragious ſpite and crueltie, Which we contriv'd againſt thee, guiltleſs thee, By ſeeking of thy ſpotleſs blood to ſpill, Whileſt thou our good foretold, and not our ill. The hearing this his tender ſoul did ſmart, Whoſe watry Eyes it witneſſed in part: What? What? ſaid he, and do they me miſtruſt As ſoon as I my Father in the duſt Have laid? No, no, Dear Hearts, they need not fea • I will to them a great affection bear; Were I vindictive, yet that would not do, That God is ſtrong who ſtill preferveth you. You will'd indeed revenge upon my blood, Yet all your malice turned to my good. 'Twas not your aim when you poor Joſeph ſold, That he 'mong Egypts Worthies ſhould be roll'd No, no, 'mong Slaves; in this ye all combin'd, But my good God had better things deſign'd, Your preſervation, though ye made a prey Of me to Merchants, as you ſee this day, Wherefore take courage, I will you preſerve, Your guilt I'le pardon, and with food I'le ſerve You and your Flocks according to your mind, Am I not Joſeph, can I be but kind? Haſte, haſte my Muſe, now thou muſt make an end, That Pearl of price whom God did hither ſend, Hath now ten Winters and 100 ſeen, As many Summers, of which he hath been Fourſcore and ſev'n in the Egyptian Land, Alway's upholden by th' Almighties hand. And now he ſees of his own procreation In his laſt days a treble generation. Then finding's vital Sp'rits begin to fail, And Death enſuing, who would take no Bail, He calls his Brethren as his Father did, And then unfolds a Myſtery lay hid Concerning their departure to the place Promis'd to Abram and his following race, And doth deſire that all of them might ſwear That they to Canaan ſhall his Body bear When dead, and lay him in his Fathers Grave, Which they might find into the Hittits cave. Here Joſeph dies, being of a good old Age. Here Joſeph dies a chaſte and holy Sage. Here Joſeph leaves his Pharaoh and departs, Here Joſeph leaves his Friends with grieved hearts Here with him dies all Jacobs Off-ſprings glory, In Egypt, and the Period of his Story. FINIS.