Abraham. Speke no siche wordes, son, I the Sir, let me say. Abraham. Now, my dere child, thou may not shon. Isaac. The shynyng of youre bright blayde It gars me quake for ferd to dee. Abraham. Therfor groflynges thou shalle be layde, Then when I stryke thou shalle not se. Isaac. What have I done, fader, what have I saide ? Abraham. Truly, no kyns ille to me. Isaac. And thus gyltles shalle be arayde. Abraham. Now, good son, let siche wordes be. Isaac. I luf you ay. Abraham. So do I thee. Let be, let be! It wille not help that thou wold_meyn ; I mys a lytylle thyng I weyn. That water shotes in both myn eeyn, Hir answere bese belife—66 nay, sir!" I ne wote what I shalle say tille hir. Deus. Angelle hy with alle thi mayn, Angelus. Gladly, Lord, I am redy, Abraham. Bot myght I yit of wepyng sese, It must nedes be, withoutten lesse, I wille ryn on a res, And slo hym here, right as he lyse. Abraham. War, let the go. Angelus. Who is ther now? Stand up, now, stand; Thi good wille com I to alow, Therfor I byd the hold thi hand. Abraham. Say, who bad so? any bot thou? Angelus. Yei, God; and sendes this beest to thyn offerand. Abraham. I speke with God latter, 1 trow, And doyng he me commaund. Angelus. He has persavyd thy mekenes And thi good wille also, iwis ; He wille thou do thi son no distres, For he has graunt to thee his blys. Abraham. Bot wote thou welle that it is As thou has sayd? Angelus. I say the yis. Abraham. I thank Thee, Lord, welle of good nes, That alle thus has relest me this; To speke with the have I no space Yei, this to tokyn. Et osculatur eum. Son thou has scapid a fulle hard grace, Isaac. Then am I glad; Good sir, put up your sword agayn. Abraham. Nay, hardely, son be thou not adrad. Isaac. Is alle forgeyn? Abraham. yei, son, certan. Isaac. For ferd, sir, was I nere hand mad. ISAAC. Isaac. Com nere son and kys me, To a feld with flouris, or hony bike. Jacob. Here, fader, and askes youre benyson. Isaac. The blyssyng my fader gaf to me, God of heven and I gif the; God gif the plente grete, Of wyne, of oylle, and of whete; And graunt thi childre alle To worshipe the, bothe grete and smalle ; Who so the waris wared be he. Decedet Jacob. Jacob. Graunt mercy, sir, I wille do so. Esaw. Have, ete, fader, of myn huntyng; And gif me sythen your blyssyng. Isaac. Who is that? Esaw. I, youre son ; Esaw brynges you venyson. Isaac. Who was that was right now here, And broght me bruet of a dere? I ete welle, and blyssyd hym, And he is blyssyd iche a lym. Esaw. Alas! I may grete and sob. Isaac. Thou art begylyd thrughe Jacob, Isaac. Sich an other have I none; The dew of heven and frute of land; Esaw. Now, alas, and walo-way! My fader's dayes shalle com with grete, May I hym mete I shalle hym slo. Rebecca. Isaac, it were my deth There my brothere dwellys, Laban ; peasse Tille his brother's wrath wille seasse. Loyse bothe my sonnes ? better nay. İsaac. Thou says soth, wife, calle hym heder, And let us telle hym where and wheder; That he may fle Esaw, That us bothe hetes bale to brew. Rebecca. Jacob, son, thi fader and I Wold speke with the; com, stand us by. Out of contry must thou fle That Esaw slo not the. Jacob. Wheder ward shuld I go, dame? To my brothere, and thyn eme, Jacob. I wille go, fader, at youre rede. Jacob. Have good day, sir and dame. Isaac. God sheld the, son, from syn and shame. Rebecca. And gif the grace good man to be, And send me glad tythynges to the. EXPLICIT ISAAC. |