Ysaac.
Fader, syn yt may be noo other wysse,
Let yt passe ouer as wyll as I.
But fader, or I goo on to my deth, [folio 18b]
Line 212
I prey ȝow blysse me with ȝowr hand.
Abraham.
Now ysaac, with all my breth,
My blyssyng I ȝeve þe vpon thys lond,
And godes also ther to, i-wys.
Line 216
Ysaac! ysaac, sone up thow stond,
Thy fayer swete mowthe þat I may kys.
Ysaac.
Now, for wyll, [That is, fare well.] my owyne fader so fyn,
And grete wyll my moder in erthe. [See note to line 76.]
Line 220
But I prey ȝow fader to hyd my eyne,
That I se not þe stroke of ȝowr scharpe sword,
That my fleysse schall defyle.
Abraham.
Sone, thy wordes make me to weep full sore,
Line 224
Now my dere son ysaac, speke no more.
Ysaac.
A! my owyne dere fader, were fore?
We schall speke to-gedyr her but a wylle. [Wylle, while.]
And sythyn that I must nedysse be ded,
Line 228
ȝyt my dere fader to ȝow I prey,
Smythe but feve [I. e. few.] strokes at my hed,
And make an end as sone as ȝe may,
And tery not to longe.
Line 232
