Ysaac.
Tell me, my dere fader, or that ȝe ses,
Ber ȝe ȝowr sword draw for me?
Abraham.
A! ysaac, swet son, pes! pes!
For i-wys thow breke my harte on thre.
Line 156
Ysaac.
Now trewly sum-what, fader, ȝe thynke,
That ȝe morne thus more and more.
Abraham.
A! lord of heuyn, thy grace let synke,
For my hart wos neuer halffe so sore.
Line 160
Ysaac.
I preye ȝow, fader, þat ȝe wyll let me þat wyt,
Wyther schall I haue ony harme or noo?
Abraham.
I-wys, swet son, I may not tell the ȝyt,
My hart ys now soo full of woo.
Line 164
Ysaac.
Dere fader, I prey ȝow, hydygth [Hydygth, hide it. This appears to be a relic of the coalescence of a verb and pronoun, a peculiarity of East Midland dialect. See also lines 257, 300, 304.] not fro me,
But sum of ȝowr thowt þat ȝe tell me.
Abraham.
A ysaac, ysaac! I must kyll the.
