BROME, SUFFOLK
There is no record of a performance of this play which has survived in a manuscript of the second half of the fifteenth century. It was written into a kind of commonplace book which was later used for some accounts. The language is consistent with that of Suffolk in the fifteenth century, and there is no reason to suppose that its survival at Brome is anything other than a fortunate chance whereby it remained close to the place where it was written down. The scribe was not the author, and he had considerable trouble with the rimes. The original was probably not earlier than 1400. Brome is, and was, a very small community and there is no likelihood that there was ever a cyclic performance in the locality.
Nevertheless the play has many similarities with the genuine cycle plays. Not the least of these is the close correspondence between ll. 105–315 of the Brome play and ll.229–420 of Chester 4 (Play 6 in this selection). Though the two plays are not as close as the parallels which appear between York and Towneley in half a dozen plays, it is not doubted that there was some interrelationship, and there are several places where the words are the same. But the stanza forms are different, and from a dramatic point of view there are variations of pace and emphasis. There is no consensus as to which came first, though the article by J. B. Severs (see Note on Books, p. 38) has received strong support. He sought to show that the Brome play was coherent in places where the Chester was corrupt, and thus to establish that the Brome was nearer to being the original version.
Critics are also divided as to the merits of the two: such judgements are often made on modern aesthetic considerations, and the division of feeling is such that each play has been found to be both splendid and dull. Here it is perhaps sufficient to say that the Chester often seems the more restrained of the two. Where the plays divide, after the release of Isaac by the Angel, the Brome version adds much personal and emotional detail which perhaps weakens the impact of the main conflict. As in the Chester play, Isaac is a boy, and much is made of the pathetic circumstances of the divine command.
[Enter Abraham, accompanied by Isaac.]
(1)
ABRAHAM: Fader of Hevyn Omnipotent,
Wyth all my hart to the I call;
Thow hast goffe me both lond and rent,
And my lyvelod thow hast me sent:
I thanke the heyly evermore of all1.
(2)
Fyrst off the erth thou madyst Adam,
And Eve also to be ys wyffe;
All other creaturys of them too cam;
And now thow hast grant to me, Abraham,
10 Her in thys lond to lede my lyffe.
(3)
In my age2 thou hast grantyd me thys,
That thys yowng chyld wyth me schall won;
I love no thyng so myche, iwysse,
Excepe thin owyn selffe, der Fader of blysse,
As Ysaac her, my owyn swete son.
(4)
I have dyverse chyldryn moo,
The wych I love not halffe so wyll;
Thys fayer swet chyld, he schereys me soo,
In every place wer that I goo,
20 That noo dessece her may I fell.
3 goffe given 4 lyvelod living 5 heyly greatly 12 won live 15 her here 17 wyll well 18 swet sweet schereys cheers 20 dessece harm fell feel
And ther-for, Fadyr of Hevyn, I the prey,
For hys helth and also for hys grace;
Now, Lord, kepe hym both nygth and day,
That never dessese nor noo fray
Cume to my chyld in noo place.
(6)
Now cum on, Ysaac, my owyn swet chyld;
Goo we hom and take owre rest.
YSAAC: Abraham, myn owyn fader so myld,
To folowe yow I am full glad3,
30 Bothe erly and late.
ABRAHAM: Cume on, swete chyld, I love the best
Off all the chyldryn that ever I begat.
[As they go their way, God sends the Angel.]
(7)
DEUS: Myn Angell, fast hey the thy wey,
And on-to medyll-erth anon thou goo;
Abrams hart now wyll I asay,
Wethere that he be stedfast or noo.
(8)
Sey I commaw[n]dyd hym for to take
Ysaac, hys yowng sonne, that he love so wyll,
And wyth hys blood sacryfyce he make,
40 Yffe ony off my freynchepe he wyll fell.
(9)
Schow hym the wey on-to the hylle
Wer that hys sacryffyce schall be;
I schall asay now hys good wyll,
Whether he lovy[th] better hys chyld or me.
All men schall take exampyll be hym
My commawmentys how they schall kepe4.
24 fray fear 33 hey the go 34 medyll-erth earth 40 freynchepe friendship, affection
ABRAHAM: Now, Fader of Hevyn, that formyd all thyng,
My preyerys I make to the ageyn,
For thys day my tender offryng
50 Here must I geve to the, certeyn.
A! Lord God, Allmyty Kyng,
Wat maner best woll make the most fayn?
Yt schuld be don wyth all my mayn
Full sone anon.
To don thy plesyng on an hyll,
Verely yt ys my wyll,
Dere Fader God in Trenyte.
(11)
THE ANGELL: Abraham, Abraham, wyll thou rest!
60 Owre Lord comandyth the for to take
Ysaac, thy yowng son that thow lovyst best,
And wyth hys blod sacryfyce that thow make.
(12)
Into the lond of V[y]syon5 thow goo,
And offer thy chyld on-to thy Lord;
I schall the lede: and schow all-soo
Unto Goddys hest, Abraham, acord,
ABRAHAM: Wolle-com to me be my Lordys sond,
And hys hest I wyll not wythstond;
70 Yyt Ysaac, my yowng sonne in lond,
A full dere chyld to me have byn.
(13)
I had lever, yf God had be plesyd,
For to a forbore all the good that I have6,
Than Ysaac my son schuld a be desessyd,
So God in Hevyn my sowll mot save!
48 the thee 52 fayn pleased 53 very true knoyng knowledge 54 mayn strength 67 gren grass 68 sond messenger 70 Yyt yet in lond on earth
I lovyd never thyng soo mych in erthe,
And now I must the chyld goo kyll.
A! Lord God, my conseons ys stronly steryd,
And yyt, my dere Lord, I am sore aferd
80 To groche ony thyng agens yowre wyll.
(15)
I love my chyld as my lyffe,
But yyt I love my God myche more,
For thow my hart woold make ony stryffe,
Yyt wyll I not spare for chyld nor wyffe,
But don after my Lordys lore.
(16)
Thow I love my sonne never so wyll,
Yyt smyth of hys hed sone I schall.
A! Fader of Hevyn, to the I knell,
An hard deth my son schall fell
90 For to honore the, Lord, wythall.
(17)
THE ANGELL: Abraham, Abraham, thys ys wyll seyd,
And all thys comamentys loke that thou kepe;
But in thy hart be no-thyng dysmayd.
ABRAHAM: Nay, nay, forsoth, I hold me wyll plesyd,
To plesse my God wyth the best that I have;
(18)
For thow my hart be hevely sett
To see the blood of my owyn dere son,
Yyt for all thys I wyll not lett;
[Exit Angel.]
But Ysaac, my son, I wyll goo fett,
100 And cum asse fast as ever we can.
78 conseons conscience 80 groche complain of 87 smyth smite 92 comamentys commandments 98 lett make difficulties
Now, Ysaac, my owyn son dere,
Wer art thow, chyld? Speke to me.
YSAAC: My fayer swet fader, I am here,
And make my preyrys to the Trenyte.
(20)
ABRAHAM: Rysse up, my chlyd, and fast cum heder7,
My gentyll barn that art so wysse,
For we to, chyld, must goo to-geder,
And onto my Lord make sacryffyce.
(21)
YSAAC: I am full redy, my fader, loo!
[Evyn] at yowr handys I stand rygth here,
110 And wat-so-ever ye byd me doo,
Yt schall be don with glad chere,
Full wyll and fyne.
ABRAHAM: A! Ysaac, my owyn son soo dere,
Godys blyssyng I gyffe the, and myn.
(22)
Hold thys fagot upon thi bake,
And her my-selffe fyere schall bryng.
YSAAC: Fader, all thys her wyll I packe8;
I am full fayn to do yowre bedyng.
120 ABRAHAM: A! Lord of Hevyn, my handys I wryng;
Thys chyldys wordys all to-wond my harte.
(23)
Now, Ysaac, son, goo we owr wey
On-to yon mownte, wyth all owr mayn.
YSAAC: Gowe, my dere fader, as fast as I may
To folow yow I am full fayn,
All-thow I be slendyr.
106 barn child 119 bedyng bidding 121 to-wond wound deeply
ABRAHAM: A! Lord, my hart brekyth on tweyn,
Thys chyldys wordys, they be so tender.
(24)
[They reach the mountain.]
A! Ysaac, son, anon ley yt down,
130 No lenger upon thi backe yt bere;
To honowre my Lord God as I schuld.
(25)
YSAAC: LOO, my dere fader, wer yt ys!
To cher yow all-wey I draw me nere;
But, fader, I mervell sore of thys,
Wy that ye make thys hevy chere;
(26)
And also, fader, evermore dred I:
Wer ys yowr qweke best that ye schuld kyll?
Both fyer and wood we have redy,
140 But queke best have we non on this hyll.
(27)
A qwyke best, I wot wyll, must be ded,
Yowr sacryfyce for to make9.
ABRAHAM: Dred the nowgth, my chyld, I the red,
Owre Lord wyll send me onto thys sted
Summ maner a best for to take,
Throw his swet sond.
YSAAC: Ya, fader, but my hart begynnyth to quake,
To se that scharpe sword in yowre hond.
(28)
Wy bere ye yowre sword drawyn soo?
150 Off youre [contenaunce] I have mych wonder.
127 tweyn twain 131 redy bon quite ready 138 qweke living best animal 141 wot know 143 nowgth not red tell 144 sted place
ABRAHAM: A! Fader of Hevyn, so I am woo!
Thys chyld her brekyth my harte on too.
(29)
YSAAC: Tell me, my dere fader, or that ye ses,
Bere ye yowr sword draw for me?
ABRAHAM: A! Ysaac, swet son, pes! pes!
For i-wys thow breke my harte on thre.
(30)
YSAAC: Now trewly, sumwhat, fader, ye thynke
That ye morne thus more and more.
ABRAHAM: A! Lord of Hevyn, thy grace let synke10,
160 For my hart wos never halffe so sore.
(31)
YSAAC: I preye yow, fader, that ye wyll let me yt wyt,
Wyther schall I have ony harme or noo?
ABRAHAM: I-wys, swet son, I may not tell the yyt11,
My hart ys now soo full of woo.
(32)
YSAAC: Dere fader, I prey yow, hydygth not fro me,
But sum of yowr thowt that ye tell me.
ABRAHAM: A! Ysaac! Ysaac! I must kyll the.
YSAAC: Kyll me, fader? Alasse! Wat have I don?
(33)
Yff I have trespassyd agens yow owt,
170 With a yard ye may make me full myld;
And wyth yowre scharp sword kyll me nogth,
For i-wys, fader, I am but a chyld.
(34)
ABRAHAM: I am full sory, son, thy blood for to spyll,
But truly, my chyld, I may not chese.
153 or that before 161 wyt know 165 hydygth hide (it) 174 chese chose
YSAAC: Now I wold to God my moder were her on this hyll!
Sche woold knele for me on both hyre kneys
To save my lyffe.
And sythyn that my moder ys not here,
I prey yow, fader, schonge yowr chere,
180 And kyll me not wyth yowyre knyffe.
(35)
ABRAHAM: Forsothe, son, but gyf I the kyll12,
I schuld greve God rygth sore, I drede;
Yt ys hys commawment and also hys wyll
That I schuld do thys same dede.
(36)
He commawndyd me, son, for serteyn,
To make my sacryfyce wyth thy blood.
YSAAC: And ys yt Goddys wyll that I schuld be slayn?
ABRAHAM: Ya, truly, Ysaac, my son soo good,
And ther-for my handys I wryng.
190 YSAAC: Now, fader, agens my Lordys wyll
I wyll never groche, lowd nor styll13;
He mygth a sent me a better desteny
(37)
ABRAHAM: For-sothe, son, but yf I ded this dede,
Grevously dysplessyd owre Lord wyll be.
YSAAC: Nay, nay, fader. God forbede
That ever ye schuld greve hym for me.
(38)
Ye have other chyldryn, on or too,
The wyche ye schuld love wyll be kynd;
200 I prey yow, fader, make ye no woo,
For, be I onys ded and fro yow goo,
I schall be sone owt of yowre mynd14.
179 schonge change 181 but gyf unless 191 styll persistently 192 a have 193 plecer pleasure 194 ded did 199 be kynd by nature
Therfor doo owre Lordys byddyng,
And wan I am ded, than prey for me;
But, good fader, tell ye my moder no-thyng;
Sey that I am in another cuntre dwellyng.
ABRAHAM: A! Ysaac, Ysaac, blyssyd mot thow be!
(40)
My hart begynnyth stronly to rysse,
To see the blood off thy blyssyd body.
210 YSAAC: Fadyr, syn yt may be noo other wysse,
Let yt passe over as wyll as I15.
(41)
But, fader, or I goo onto my deth,
I prey yow blysse me wyth yowre hand.
ABRAHAM: Now, Ysaac, wyth all my breth,
My blyssyng I geve the upon thys lond,
And Godys also ther-to, i-wys.
A, Ysaac, Ysaac, son, up thow stond,
Thy fayere swete mowthe that I may kys.
(42)
YSAAC: Now, forwyll, my owyn fader so fyn,
220 And grete wyll my moder in erthe.
But I prey yow, fader, to hyd my eyne,
That I se not the stroke of yowr scharpe sword,
That my fleysse schall defyle.
ABRAHAM: Son, thy wordys make me to wepe full sore
Now, my dere son Ysaac, speke no more.
YSAAC: A, my owyn dere fader, were-fore?
We schall speke to-gedyr her but a wylle.
(43)
And sythyn that I must nedysse be ded,
Yyt, my dere fader, to yow I prey,
230 Smyth but fewe strokys at my hed,
219 fyn noble 220 grete greet 221 eyne eyes
And make an end as sone as ye may,
ABRAHAM: Thy meke wordys, chyld, make me afrayed;
So welawey may be my songe16,
(44)
A! Ysaac, my owyn swete chyld,
Yyt kysse me agen upon thys hyll!
In all thys ward ys non soo myld.
(45)
YSAAC: Now, truly, fader, all thys teryyng,
240 Yt doth my hart but harme;
I prey yow, fader, make an enddyng.
ABRAHAM: Cume up, swet son, on-to my arme.
(46)
I must bynd thy handys too,
All-thow thow be never soo myld.
YSAAC: A, mercy, fader! Wy schuld ye do soo?
ABRAHAM: That thow schuldyst not let, my chyld.
(47)
YSAAC: Nay, i-wysse, fader, I wyll not let yow;
Do on for yowre wyll,
And on the purpos that ye have set yow,
250 For Godys love kepe yt forthe styll.
(48)
I am full sory thys day to dey,
But yyt I kepe not my God to greve;
Do on yowre lyst for me hardly18,
My fayer swete fader, I geffe yow leve.
232 tery delay 235 alonly alone 238 ward world 239 teryyng delay 246 let hinder 251 dey die 252 kepe wish 254 leve leave
But fader, I prey yow evermore,
Yffe sche wost yt, sche wold wepe full sore,
For i-wysse, fader, sche lovyt me full wyll;
Goddys blyssyng mot sche have!
260 Now forwyll, my moder so swete,
We too be leke no mor to mete.
ABRAHAM: A, Ysaac, Ysaac! son, thou makyst me to gret,
And wyth thy wordys thow dystempurst me.
(50)
YSAAC: I-wysse, swete fader, I am sory to greve yow;
I cry yow mercy of that I have donne,
And of all trespasse that ever I ded meve yow;
Now, dere fader, forgyffe me that I have donne.
God of Hevyn be wyth me!
(51)
ABRAHAM: A, dere chyld, lefe of thy monys;
270 In all thy lyffe thow grevyd me never onys;
Now blyssyd be thow, body and bonys,
That ever thow were bred and born.
(52)
Thow hast be to me chyld full good;
But i-wysse, chyld, thow I morne never so fast,
Yyt must I nedys here at the last
In thys place sched all thy blood.
(53)
Therfor, my dere son, here schall thou lye,
On-to my warke I must me stede,
I-wysse I had as leve myselffe to dey,
280 Yffe God wyll be plecyd wyth my dede,
256 no dell nothing 257 wost knew 261 leke likely 262 gret weep 263 dystempurst sadden 266 meve move 269 monys complaints 278 stede set to
And myn owyn body for to offere.
YSAAC: A, mercy, fader, morne ye no more;
Yowr wepyng make my hart sore
As my owyn deth that I schall suffere.
(54)
Yowre kerche, fader, abowt my eyn ye wynd!
ABRAHAM: So I schall, my swettest chyld in erthe.
YSAAC: Now yyt, good fader, have thys in mynd,
And smyth me not oftyn wyth yowr scharp sword,
But hastely that yt be sped.
Here Abraham leyd a cloth over Ysaacys face, thus seyyng
290 ABRAHAM: Now forewyll, my chyld, so full of grace.
YSAAC: A, fader, fader, torne downgward my face,
For of yowre scharpe sword I am ever adred.
(55)
ABRAHAM: To don thys dede I am full sory,
But, Lord, thyn hest I wyll not wythstond.
YSAAC: A, Fader of Hevyn, to the I crye,
Lord, reseyve me in-to thy hand!
(56)
ABRAHAM: LOO, now ys the tyme cum, certeyn,
That my sword in hys necke schall synke.
A! Lord, my hart reysyth therageyn19,
300 I may not fyndygth in my harte to smygth;
My hart wyll not now ther-too,
Yyt fayn I woold warke my Lordys wyll;
But thys yowng innosent lygth so styll,
I may not fyndygth in my hart hym to kyll.
O, Fader of Hevyn! What schall I doo?
(57)
YSAAC: A, mercy, fader, wy tery ye so,
And let me ley thus longe on this heth?
285 kerche kerchief 290 forewyll farewell 294 hest command 303 lygth lies 307 heth heath
Now I wold to God the stroke were doo.
Fader, I prey yow hartely, schorte me of my woo,
310 And let me not loke thus after my degth.
(58)
ABRAHAM: Now, hart, wy wolddyst not thow breke on thre?
Yyt schall thou not make me to my God on-myld.
I wyll no lenger let for the,
For that my God agrevyd wold be.
Now hoold the stroke, my owyn dere chyld20.
Her Abraham drew hys stroke and the Angell toke the sword in hys hond suddenly.
(59)
THE ANGELL: I am an angell, thow mayist be blythe,
That fro hevyn to the ys senth;
Owre Lord thanke the an C sythe21
For the kepyng of hys commawment.
(60)
320 He knowyt thi wyll and also thy harte,
That thow dredyst hym above all thyng,
And sum of thy hevynes for to departe
A fayer ram22 yynder I gan brynge;
(61)
He standyth teyed, loo, among the brerys.
Now, Abraham, amend thy mood,
For Ysaac, thy yowng son that her ys,
Thys day schall not sched hys blood;
(62)
Goo, make thy sacryfece wyth yon rame,
For on-to hevyn I goo now hom.
309 schorte me of shorten for me 310 loke… after anticipate degth death 312 on-myld rebellious 322 departe relieve 323 yynder yonder 324 teyed tied brerys briars
330 Now forwyll, blyssyd Abraham,
The wey ys fall gayn.
Take up thy son soo free.
[Exit Angel.]
ABRAHAM: A! Lord, I thanke the of thy gret grace;
Now am I yethed on dyvers wysse.
A-rysse up, Ysaac, my dere sunne, a-rysse,
A-rysse up, swete chyld, and cum to me.
(63)
YSAAC: A, mercy, fader, wy smygth ye nowt yyt?
A, smygth on, fader, onys wyth yowre knyffe!
ABRAHAM: Pesse, my swet sun, and take no thowt,
340 For owre Lord of Hevyn hath grant thi lyffe,
Be hys Angell now,
(64)
That thou schalt not dey this day, sunne, truly.
YSAAC: A, fader, fall glad than wer I,
I-wys, fader, I sey i-wys,
ABRAHAM: An hundyrd tymys, my son fayer of hew,
For joy thi mowth now wyll I kys.
(65)
YSAAC: A! my dere fader, Abraham,
Wyll not God be wroth that we do thus?
350 ABRAHAM: Noo, noo! harly, my swyt son,
For yyn same rame he hath us sent,
Hethyr down to us.
(66)
Yyn best schall dey here in thi sted,
In the worthchup of owr Lord alon;
Goo fet hym hethyre, my chyld, inded.
334 yethed comforted, eased 339 thowt thought 345 tall tale 350 harly certainly 351 yyn yon 353 best beast 354 worthchup worship
YSAAC: Fader, I wyll goo hent hym be the hed,
And bryng yon best wyth me a-non.
(67)
A, scheppe, scheppe, blyssyd mot thou be
That ever thow were sent down heder!
360 Thow schall thys day dey for me,
In the worchup of the Holy Trynyte.
Now cum fast and goo we togeder
To my fader [in hy23].
Thow thou be never so jentyll and good,
Yyt had I lever thow schedyst thi blood,
I-wysse, scheppe, than I.
(68)
Loo, fader, I have browt here full smerte
Thys jentyll scheppe, and hym to yow I gyffe:
But, Lord God, I thank the with all my hart,
370 For I am glad that I schall leve,
And kys onys my dere moder.
ABRAHAM: Now be rygth myry, my swete chylld,
For thys qwyke best that ys so myld,
Here I schall present be-fore all othere.
(69)
YSAAC: And I wyll fast begynne to blowe,
Thys fyere schall brene a full good spyd.
But, fader, wyll I stowppe down lowe,
Ye wyll not kyll me with yowre sword, I trowe?24
ABRAHAM: Noo, harly, swet son, have no dred,
YSAAC: Ya! but I woold that sword were in a glad,
For i-wys, fader, yt make me full yll agast.
Here Abraham mad hys offryng, knelyng and seyyng thus
356 hent take, seize 372 myry merry 373 qwyke living 376 brene burn 377 stowppe stoop 380 mornyng grieving 381 glad sheath
ABRAHAM: Now, Lord God of Hevyn, in Trynyte,
All-myty God Omnipotent,
Myn offeryng I make in the worchope of the,
And wyth thys qweke best I the present.
Lord, reseyve thow myn intent,
As [thow] art God and grownd of owr grace.
(71)
DEUS: Abraham, Abraham, wyll mot thow sped,
390 And Ysaac, thi yowng son, the by!25
Truly, Abraham, for thys dede
I schall multyplye yowrys botherys sede26
As thyke as sterrys be in the skye,
Bothe more and lesse;
And as thyke as gravell in the see,
So thyke multyplyed yowre sede schall be;
Thys grant I yow for yowre goodnesse.
(72)
Off yow schall cume frewte gret27,
And ever be in blysse wythowt yynd,
400 For ye drede me as God a-lon
And kepe my commawmentys everyschon.
My blyssyng I geffe, wer-so-ever ye goo.
(73)
ABRAHAM: Loo! Ysaac, my son, how thynke ye
Be thys warke that we have wrogth?
Full glad and blythe we may be,
Agens the wyll of God that we grucched nott,
Upon thys fayere hetth.
YSAAC: A, fader, I thanke owre Lord every dell,
That my wyt servyd me so wyll,
410 For to drede God more than my detth.
387 reseyve receive 393 sterrys stars 395 gravell stones 399 yynd end 404 wrogth done 406 grucched complained 408 dell part, scrap
ABRAHAM: Why! dere-wordy son, wer thow adred?
Hardely, chyld, tell me thy lore.
YSAAC: Ya! be my feyth, fader, now [have28] I red,
I wos never soo afrayd be-fore
As I have byn at yyn hyll.
But, be my feyth, I swere
I wyll nevermore cume there
But yt be agens my wyll.
(75)
ABRAHAM: Ya, cum on wyth me, my owyn swet son,
420 And hom-ward fast now let us goon.
YSAAC: Be my feyth, fader, ther-to I grant;
I had never so good wyll to gon hom,
And to speke wyth my dere moder.
ABRAHAM: A! Lord of Hevyn, I thanke the,
For now may I led hom wyth me
The gentyllest chyld above all erthe:
(76)
Now goo we forthe, my blyssyd son.
430 YSAAC: I grant, fader, and let us gon,
For be my trowthe, were I at home
I wold never gon owt under that forme.
I pray God geffe us grace evermo,
And all thow that we be holdyng to30.
[Exeunt Abraham and Isaac. Enter the Doctor.]
(77)
DOCTOR: LO, sovereyns and sorys, now have we schowyd
Thys solom story31 to gret a[nd] smale;
411 dere-wordy beloved 426 fre noble 428 a-voee declare, proclaim 432 forme way 435 sorys sirs 436 solom serious, weighty
It ys good lernyng to lernd and lewyd,
And the wysest of us all,
440 For thys story schoyt yowe [her]
How we schuld kepe to owr po[we]re
Goddy s commawmentys wyth-owt grochyng.
(78)
Trowe ye, sorys, and God sent an angell
And commawndyd yow [yowre chyld to slayn32],
Be yowre trowthe ys ther ony of yow
That eyther wold groche or stryve therageyn?
(79)
How thyngke ye now, sorys, therby?
I trow ther be iij ore iiij or moo;
And thys women that wepe so sorowfully
450 Whan that hyr chyldryn dey them froo,
Yt ys but folly, I may wyll awooe,
To groche a-gens God or to greve yow,
For ye schall never se hym meschevyd, wyll I know,
Be lond nor watyr; have thys in mynd.
(80)
And groche not a-gens awre Lord God,
In welthe or woo, wether that he yow send,
Thow ye be never so hard be-stad,
For whan he wyll, he may yt a-mend.
460 Hys comawmentys trewly yf ye kepe wyth goo[d] hart,
As thys story hath now scho[w]yd yow befor[n]e,
And feytheffully serve hym qwyll ye be quart,
437 lewyd ignorant 439 berryng exception 440 schoyt shows 442 grochyng complaint 451 nater nature 452 awooe declare, assert 454 meschevyd harmed 457 wether whichever 458 be-stad beset 462 quart alive
That ye may piece God bothe evyn and morne.
Now Jhesu, that weryt the crown of thorne,
Bryng us all to hevyn-blysse!
464 weryt wore
