Abraham.
Thy meke wordes, chyld, make me afrayed,
So welawey! may be my songe,
Excepe alonly godes wyll.
A! ysaac, my owyn swete chyld!
Line 236
ȝyt kysse me a-ȝen vp-on thys hyll!
In all thys war[l]d ys non so myld.
Ysaac.
Now, truly, fader, all thys teryyng
Yt doth my hart but harme.
Line 240
I prey ȝow, fader, make an enddyng.
Abraham.
Cume up, swet son, on to my arme,
I must bynd thy hands too,
[He binds Isaac's hands.
All thow thow be neuer soo myld.
Line 244
Ysaac.
A! mercy, fader, wy schuld ȝe do soo?
Abraham. [folio 19a]
That thow schuldyst not let [me], my chyld.
Ysaac.
Nay, i-wysse, fader, I wyll not let ȝow,
Do on for me ȝowre wyll,
Line 248
And on the purpos that ȝe haue set ȝow,
For godes love kepe yt forthe styll.
I am full sory thys day to dey,
But ȝyt I kepe not my god to greve,
Line 252
Do on ȝowre lyst for me hardly,
My fayer swete fader, I ȝeffe ȝow leve.
