THE BROME PLAY OF ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 001 ABRAHAM. Fader of Heuyn Omnipotent, 002 Wyth all my hart to the I call; 003 Thow hast 3offe me both lond and rent, 004 And my lyvelod thow hast me sent; 005 I thanke the heyly euermore of all. 006 Fyrst off the erth ŝou madyst Adam, 007 And Eue also to be hys wyffe; 008 All other creaturys of them too cam; 009 And now thow hast grant to me, Abraham, 010 Her in thys lond to lede my lyffe. 011 In my age ŝou hast grantyd me thys, 012 That thys 3owng chyld wyth me schall won; 013 I love no thyng so myche, iwysse, 014 Excepe ŝin owyn selffe, der Fader of blysse, 015 As Ysaac her, my owyn swete son. 016 I haue dyuerse chyldryn moo, 017 The wych I love not halffe so wyll; 018 Thys fayer swet chyld, he schereys me soo, 019 In euery place wer that I goo, 020 That noo dessece her may I fell. 021 And therfor, Fadyr of Heuyn, I the prey, 022 For hys helth and also for hys grace; 023 Now, Lord, kepe hym both nygth and day 024 That neuer dessese nor noo fray 025 Cume to my chyld in noo place. 026 Now cum on, Ysaac, my owyn swet chyld; 027 Goo we hom and take owre rest. 028 YSAAC. Abraham, myn owyn fader so myld, 029 To folowe 3ow I am full prest, 030 Bothe erly and late. 031 ABRAHAM. Cume on, swete chyld, I love the best 032 Off all the chyidryn that euer I begat. 033 DEUS. Myn angell, fast hey the thy wey, 034 And onto medyll-erth anon ŝou goo; 035 Abrams hart now wyll I asay, 036 Wethere that he be stedfast or noo. 037 Sey I commaw[n]dyd hym for to take 038 Ysaac, hys 3owng sonne, ŝat he love so wyll, 039 And wyth hys blood sacryfyce he make, 040 Yffe ony off my freynchepe he wyll fell. 041 Schow hym the wey onto the hylle 042 Wer that hys sacryffyce schall be; 043 I schall asay now hys good wyll, 044 Whether he lovyths better hys chyld or me. 045 All men schall take exampyll hym be 046 My commawmentys how they schall fulfyll. 047 ABRAHAM. Now, Fader of Heuyn, ŝat formyd all thyng, 048 My preyerys I make to the a3eyn, 049 For thys day my tender offryng 050 Here mvst I 3eve to the, certeyn. 051 A! Lord God, Allmyty Kyng, 052 Wat maner best woll make ŝe most fayn? 053 Yff I had therof very knoyng, 054 Yt schuld be don wyth all my mayn 055 Full sone anon. 056 To don thy plesyng on an hyll, 057 Verely yt ys my wyll, 058 Dere Fader, God alon. 059 THE ANGELL. Abraham, Abraham, wyll ŝou rest! 060 Owre Lord comandyth ŝe for to take 061 Ysaac, thy 3owng son that thow lovyst best, 062 And wyth hys blod sacryfyce ŝat thow make. 063 Into the Lond of V[y]syon thow goo, 064 And offer thy chyld onto thy Lord- 065 I schall the lede-and schow all-soo 066 Vnto Goddys hest, Abraham, acord, 067 And folow me vpon thys gren. 068 ABRAHAM. Wollecom to me be my Lordys sond, 069 And hys hest I wyll not wythstond; 070 3yt Ysaac, my 3owng sonne in lond, 071 A full dere chyld to me haue byn. 072 I had lever, yf God had be plesyd 073 For to a forbore all ŝe good ŝat I haue, 074 Than Ysaac my son schuld a be desessyd, 075 So God in Heuyn my sowll mot saue! 076 I lovyd neuer thyng soo mych in erde, 077 And now I mvst the chyld goo kyll. 078 A! Lord God, my conseons ys stronly steryd, 079 And 3yt my dere Lord, I am sore aferd 080 To groche ony thyng a3ens 3owre wyll. 081 I love my chyld as my lyffe, 082 But 3yt I love my God myche more, 083 For thow my hart woold make ony stryffe, 084 3yt wyll I not spare for chyld nor wyffe, 085 But don after my Lordys lore. 086 Thow I love my sonne neuer so wyll, 087 3yt smyth of hys hed sone I schall. 088 A! Fader of Heuyn, to the I knell, 089 An hard deth my son schall fell 090 For to honore the, Lord, wythall. 091 THE ANGELL. Abraham, Abraham, thys ys wyll seyd, 092 And all thys comamentys loke ŝat ŝou saue; 093 But in thy hart be nothyng dysmayd. 094 ABRAHAM. Nay, nay, forsoth, I hold me wyll payd, 095 To plesse my God wyth the best ŝat I haue; 096 For thow my hart be heuely sett 097 To see the blood of my owyn dere son, 098 3yt for all thys I wyll not left, 099 But Ysaac, my son, I wyll goo fett, 100 And cum asse fast as euer we con.' 101 Now, Ysaac, my owyn son dere, 102 Wer art thow, chyld? Speke to me. 103 YSAAC. My fayer swet fader, I am here, 104 And make my preyrys to ŝe Trenyté. 105 ABRAHAM. Rysse vp, my chyld, and fast cum heder, 106 My gentyll barn ŝat art so wysse, 107 For we to, chyld, must goo to-geder, 108 And onto my Lord make sacryffyce. 109 YSAAC. I am full redy, my fader, loo! 110 3evyn at 3owr handys I stand rygth here, 111 And watsoeuer 3e byd me doo, 112 Yt schall be don with glad chere, 113 Full wyll and fyne. 114 ABRAHAM. A! Ysaac, my owyn son soo dere, 115 Godys blyssyng I 3yffe the, and myn. 116 Hold thys fagot vpon ŝi bake, 117 And her mysellfe fyere schall bryng. 118 YSAAC. Fader, all thys her wyll I packe; 119 I am full fayn to do 3owre bedyng. 120 ABRAHAM. A! Lord of Heuyn, my handys I wryng, 121 Thys chyldys wordys all towond my harte. 122 Now, Ysaac, son, goo we owr wey 123 Onto 3on mownte, wyth all owr mayn. 124 YSAAC. Gowe, my dere fader, as fast as I may 125 To folow 3ow I am full fayn, 126 Allthow I be slendyr. 127 ABRAHAM. A! Lord, my hart brekyth on tweyn, 128 Thys chyldys wordys, they be so tender. 129 A! Ysaac, son, anon ley yt down, 130 No lenger vpon ŝi backe yt hold; 131 For I mvst make me redy bon 132 To honowre my Lord God as I schuld. 133 YSAAC. Loo, my dere fader, wer yt ys! 134 To cher 3ow allwey I draw me nere; 135 But, fader, I mervell sore of thys, 136 Wy ŝat 3e make thys heuy chere; 137 And also, fader, euermore dred I: 138 Wer ys 3owr qweke best ŝat 3e schuld kyll? 139 Both fyer and wood we haue redy, 140 But queke best haue we non on ŝis hyll. 141 A qwyke best, I wot wyll, must be ded, 142 3owr sacryfyce for to make. 143 ABRAHAM. Dred the nowgth, my chyld, I the red, 144 Owre Lord wyll send me onto thys sted 145 Summ maner a best for to take, 146 Throw his swet sond. 147 YSAAC. 3a, fader, but my hart begynnyth to quake, 148 To se ŝat scharpe sword in 3owre hond. 149 Wy bere 3e 3owre sword drawyn soo? 150 Off 3owre contenaunce I haue mych wonder. 151 ABRAHAM. A! Fader of Heuyn, so I am woo! 152 Thys chyld her brekyth my harte onsonder. 153 YSAAC. Tell me, my dere fader, or that 3e ses, 154 Bere 3e 3owr sword draw for me? 155 ABRAHAM. A! Ysaac, swet son, pes! pes! 156 For iwys thow breke my harte on thre. 157 YSAAC. Now trewly, sumwat, fader, 3e thynke 158 That 3e morne thus more and more. 159 ABRAHAM. A! Lord of Heuyn, thy grace let synke, 160 For my hart wos neuer hallfe so sore. 161 YSAAC. I preye 3ow, fader, ŝat 3e wyll let me yt wyt, 162 Wyther schall I haue ony harme or noo? 163 ABRAHAM. Iwys, swet son, I may not tell the 3yt, 164 My hart ys now soo full of woo. 165 YSAAC. Dere fader, I prey 3ow, hydygth not fro me, 166 But sum of 3owr thowt ŝat 3e tell on. 167 ABRAHAM. A! Ysaac, Ysaac! I must kyll the. 168 YSAAC. Kyll me, fader? alasse! wat haue I don? 169 Yff I haue trespassyd a3ens 3ow owt, 170 With a 3ard 3e may make me full myld; 171 And wyth 3owre scharp sword kyll me nogth, 172 For iwys, fader, I am but a chyld. 173 ABRAHAM. I am full sory, son, thy blood for to spyll, 174 But truly, my chyld, I may not chese. 175 YSAAC. Now I wold to God rmyl moder were her on ŝis hyll! 176 Sche woold knele for me on both hyre kneys 177 To save my lyffe. 178 And sythyn that my moder ys not here, 179 I prey 3ow, fader, schonge 3owr chere, 180 And kyll me not wyth 3owyre knyffe. 181 ABRAHAM. Forsothe, son, but 3yf I the kyll, 182 I schuld greve God rygth sore, I drede; 183 Yt ys hys commawment and also hys wyll 184 That I schuld do thys same dede. 185 He commawndyd me, son, for serteyn, 186 To make my sacryfyce wyth thy blood. 187 YSAAC. And ys yt Goddys wyll ŝat I schuld be slayn? 188 ABRAHAM. 3a, truly, Ysaac, my son soo good, 189 And therfor my handys I wryng. 190 YSAAC. Now, fader, a3ens my Lordys wyll 191 I wyll neuer groche, lowd nor styll; 192 He mygth a sent me a better desteny 193 Yf yt had a be hys plecer. 194 ABRAHAM. Forsothe, son, but yf I ded ŝis dede, 195 Grevosly dysplessyd owre Lord wyll be. 196 YSAAC. Nay, nay, fader. God forbede 197 That euer 3e schuld greve hym for me. 198 3e haue other chyidryn, on or too, 199 The wyche 3e schuld love wyll be kynd; 200 I prey 3ow, fader; make 3e no woo, 201 For, be I onys ded and fro 3ow goo, 202 I schall be sone owt of 3owre mynd. 203 Therfor doo owre Lordys byddyng, 204 And wan I am ded, than prey for me; 205 But, good fader, tell 3e my moder nothyng, 206 Sey ŝat I am in another cuntré dwellyng. 207 ABRAHAM. A! Ysaac, Ysaac, blyssyd mot thow be! 208 My hart begynnyth stronly to rysse, 209 To see the blood off thy blyssyd body. 210 YSAAC. Fadyr, syn yt may be noo other wysse, 211 Let yt passe ouer as wyll as I. 212 But, fader, or I goo onto my deth, 213 I prey 3ow blysse me wyth 3owre hand. 214 ABRAHAM. Now, Ysaac, wyth all my breth, 215 My blyssyng I 3eve ŝe vpon thys lond, 216 And Godys also therto, iwys. 217 A, Ysaac, Ysaac, son, vp thow stond, 218 Thy fayere swete mowthe ŝat I may kys. 219 YSAAC. Now, forwyll, my owyn fader so fyn, 220 And grete wyll my moder in erde. 221 But I prey 3ow, fader, to hyd my eyne, 222 That I se not ŝe stroke of 3owr scharpe swerd, 223 That my fleysse schall defyle. 224 ABRAHAM. Son, thy wordys make me to wepe full sore; 225 Now, my dere son Ysaac, speke no more. 226 YSAAC. A, my owyn dere fader, werefore? 227 We schall speke togedyr her but a wylle. 228 And sythyn that I must nedysse be ded, 229 3yt, my dere fader, to 3ow I prey, 230 Smyth but fewe strokys at my hed, 231 And make an end as sone as 3e may, 232 And tery not to longe. 233 ABRAHAM. Thy meke wordys, chyld, make me afray; 234 So welawey may be my songe, 235 Excepe alonly Godys wyll. 236 A! Ysaac, my owyn swete chyld, 237 3yt kysse me a3en vpon thys hyll! 238 In all thys ward ys non soo myld. 239 YSAAC. Now, truly, fader, all thys teryyng 240 Yt doth my hart but harme; 241 I prey 3ow, fader, make an enddyng. 242 ABRAHAM. Cume vp, swet son, onto my arme. 243 I must bynd thy handys too 244 Allthow thow be neuer soo myld. 245 YSAAC. A, mercy, fader! Wy schuld 3e do soo? 246 ABRAHAM. That thow schuldyst not let me, my chyld. 247 YSAAC. Nay, iwysse, fader, I wyll not let 3ow; 248 Do on for me 3owre wyll, 249 And on the purpos that 3e haue set 3ow, 250 For Godys love kepe yt forthe styll. 251 I am full sory thys day to dey, 252 But 3yt I kepe not my God to greve; 253 Do on 3owre lyst for me hardly, 254 My fayer swete fader, I 3effe 3ow leve. 255 But, fader, I prey 3ow euermore, 256 Tell 3e my moder no dell; 257 Yffe sche wost yt, sche wold wepe full sore, 258 For iwysse, fader, sche lovyt me full wyll; 259 Goddys blyssyng haue mot sche! 260 Now forwyll, my moder so swete, 261 We too be leke no mor to mete. 262 ABRAHAM. A, Ysaac, Ysaac! son, ŝou makyst me to gret, 263 And wyth thy wordys thow dystempurst me. 264 YSAAC. Iwysse, swete fader, I am sory to greve 3ow, 265 I cry 3ow mercy of that I haue donne, 266 And of all trespasse ŝat euer I ded meve 3ow; 267 Now, dere fader, for3yffe me ŝat I haue donne. 268 God of Heuyn be wyth me! 269 ABRAHAM. A, dere chyld, lefe of thy monys; 270 In all thy lyffe thow grevyd me neuer onys; 271 Now blyssyd be thow, body and bonys, 272 That thow were bred and born to me! 273 Thow hast be to me chyld full good; 274 But iwysse, chyld, thow I morne neuer so fast, 275 3yt must I nedys here at the last 276 In thys place sched all thy blood. 277 Therfor, my dere son, here schall ŝou lye, 278 Onto my warke I must me stede, 279 Iwysse I had as leve myselffe to dey, 280 Yffe God wyll be plecyd wyth my dede, 281 And myn owyn body for to offere. 282 YSAAC. A, mercy, fader, morne 3e no more, 283 3owr wepyng make my hart sore 284 As my owyn deth that I schall suffere. 285 3owre kerche, fader, abowt my eyn 3e wynd! 286 ABRAHAM. So I schall, my swettest chyld in erde. 287 YSAAC. Now 3yt, good fader, haue thys in mynd, 288 And smyth me not oftyn wyth 3owr scharp swerd, 289 But hastely that yt be sped. Here Abraham leyd a cloth ouer Ysaacys face, thus seyyng: 290 ABRAHAM. Now, forewyll, my chyld, so full of grace. 291 YSAAC. A, fader, fader, tome downgward my face, 292 For of 3owre scharpe sword I am euer adred. 293 ABRAHAM. To don thys dede I am full sory, 294 But, Lord, thyn hest I wyll not wythstond. 295 YSAAC. A, Fader of Heuyn, to the I crye, 296 Lord, reseyve me into thy hand! 297 ABRAHAM. Loo, now ys the tyme cum, certeyn, 298 That my sword in hys necke schall bite. 299 A! Lord, my hart reysyth therageyn, 300 I may not fyndygth in my harte to smygth; 301 My hart wyll not now thertoo, 302 3yt fayn I woold warke my Lordys wyll; 303 But thys 3owng innosent lygth so styll, 304 I may not fyndygth in my hart hym to kyll. 305 O, Fader of Heuyn! what schall I doo? 306 YSAAC. A, mercy, fader, wy tery 3e so, 307 And let me ley thus longe on ŝis heth? 308 Now I wold to God ŝe stroke were doo. 309 Fader, I prey yow hartely, schorte me of my woo, 310 And let me not loke thus after my degth. 311 ABRAHAM. Now, hart, wy wolddyst not thow breke on thre? 312 3yt schall ŝou not make me to my God onmyld. 313 I wyll no lenger let for the, 314 For that my God agrevyd wold be. 315 Now hoold the stroke, my owyn dere chyld. Her Abraham drew hys stroke and ŝe angell toke the sword in hys hond soddenly. 316 THE ANGELL. I am an angell, thow mayist be blythe, 317 That fro heuyn to the ys senth; 318 Owre Lord thanke the an hundyrd sythe 319 For the kepyng of hys commawment. 320 He knowyt ŝi wyll and also thy harte, 321 That thow dredyst hym above all thyng, 322 And sum of thy hevynes for to departe 323 A fayyr ram 3ynder I gan brynge; 324 He standyth teyed, loo! among ŝe brerys. 325 Now, Abraham, amend thy mood, 326 For Ysaac, thy 3owng son ŝat her ys, 327 Thys day schall not sched hys blood; 328 Goo, make thy sacryfece wyth 3on rame, 329 For onto heuyn I goo now horn. 330 Now forwyll, blyssyd Abraham, 331 The wey ys full gayn that I mot gon. 332 Take up thy son soo free. 333 ABRAHAM. A! Lord, I thanke the of thy gret grace, 334 Now am I yeŝed on dyuers wysse. 335 Arysse vp, Ysaac, my dere sunne, arysse, 336 Arysse vp, swete chyld, and curn to me. 337 YSAAC. A, mercy, fader, wy srnygth 3e nowt ? 338 A, srnygth on, fader, onys wyth 3owre knyffe! 339 ABRAHAM. Pesse, my swet sun, and take no thowt, 340 For owre Lord of Heuyn hath grant ŝi lyffe, 341 Be hys angell now, 342 That ŝou schalt not dey ŝis day, sunne, truly. 343 YSAAC. A, fader, full glad than wer I, 344 Iwys, fader, I sey iwys, 345 Yf thys tall wer trew! 346 ABRAHAM. An hundyrd tylnys, my son fayer of hew, 347 For joy ŝi mowth now wyll I kys. 348 YSAAC. A! my dere fader, Abraham, 349 Wyll not God be wroth ŝat we do thus? 350 ABRAHAM. Noo, noo! harly, my swyt son, 351 For he hath sent vs 3yn same rame5 352 Hethyr down to vs. 353 3yn best schall dey here in ŝi sted, 354 In the worŝchup of owr Lord alon; 355 Goo, fet hym hethyre, my chyld, inded. 356 YSAAC. Fader, I wyll goo hent hym be the hed, 357 And bryng 3on best wyth me anon. 358 A, scheppe, scheppe! blyssyd mot ŝou be 359 That euer thow were sent down heder! 360 Thow schall thys day dey for me, 361 In the worchup of the Holy Trynyte. 362 Now cum fast and goowe togeder 363 To my fader in hy; 364 Thow ŝou be neuer so jentyll and good, 365 3yt had I leuer thow schedyst ŝi blood, 366 Iwysse, scheppe, than I. 367 Loo, fader, I haue browt here full smerte 368 Thys jentyll scheppe, and hym to 3ow I 3yffe : 369 But, Lord God, I thank ŝe with all my hart, 370 For I am glad that I schall leve, 371 And kys onys my dere moder. 372 ABRAHAM. Now be rygth myry, my swete chylld, 373 For thys qwyke best that ys so myld, 374 Here I schall present before all othere. 375 YSAAC. And I wyll fast begynne to blowe, 376 Thys fyere schall brene a full good spyd. 377 But fader, wyll I stowppe down lowe, 378 3e wyll not kyll me with 3owre sword, I trowe? 379 ABRAHAM. Noo, harly, swet son, haue no dred, 380 My mornyng ys past. 381 YSAAC. 3a! but I woold ŝat sword were in a gled, 382 For iwys, fader, yt make me full yll agast. Here Abraham mad hys offryng, knelyng and seyyng thus: 383 ABRAHAM. Now, Lord God of Hevyn, in Trynyté, 384 Allmyty God Omnipotent, 385 Myn offeryng I make in the worchope of the, 386 And wyth thys qweke best I the present. 387 Lord, reseyve thow myn intent, 388 As thow art God and grownd of owr gre. 389 DEUS. Abraham, Abraham, wyll rnot thow sped, 390 And Ysaac, ŝi 3owng son the by! 391 Trvly Abraham, for thys dede 392 I schall mvltyplye 3owrys botherys sede 393 As thyke as sterrys be in the skye, 394 Bothe more and lesse; 395 And as thyke as gravell in the see, 396 So thyke mvltyplyed 3owre sede schall be; 397 Thys grant I 3ow for 3owre goodnesse. 398 Off 3ow schall curne frewte gret won 399 And euer be in blysse wythowt 3ynd, 400 For 3e drede me as God alon 401 And kepe my commawmentys eueryschon. 402 My blyssyng I 3effe, wersoeuer 3e wend. 403 ABRAHAM. Loo! Ysaac, my son, how thynke 3e 404 Be thys warke that we haue wrogth? 405 Full glad and blythe we may be, 406 A3ens ŝe wyll of God ŝat we grucched nott, 407 Vpon thys fayere hetth. 408 YSAAC. A, fader, I thanke owre Lord euery dell, 409 That my wyt servyd me so wyll, 410 For to drede God more than my detth. 411 ABRAHAM. Why! derewordy son, wer thow adred? 412 Hardely, chyld, tell me thy lore. 413 YSAAC. 3a! be my feyth, fader, now haue I red, 414 I wos neuer soo afrayd before 415 As I haue byn at 3yn hyll. 416 But, be my feyth, fader, I swere 417 I wyll neuermore cume there 418 But yt be a3ens my wyll. 419 ABRAHAM. 3a, cum on wyth me, my owyn swet son, 420 And homward fast now let vs goon. 421 YSAAC. Be my feyth, fader, therto I vn, 422 I had neuer so good wyll to gon horn, 423 And to speke wyth my dere moder. 424 ABRAHAM. A! Lord of Heuyn, I thanke the, 425 For now may I led horn wyth me 426 Ysaac, my 3ownge son soo fre, 427 The gentyllest chyld above all other. 428 Now goo we forthe, my blyssyd son. 429 YSAAC. I grant, fader, and let vs gon, 430 For be my trowthe, wer I at home 431 I wold neuer gon owt vnder that forme, 432 Thys may I wyll avoee. 433 I pray God 3effe vs grace euermo, 434 And all thow that we be holdyng to. 435 DOCTOR. Lo! sovereyns and sorys, now haue we schewyd, 436 Thys solom story to gret and smale; 437 It ys good lernyng to lernd and lewyd, 438 And ŝe wysest of vs all, 439 Wythowtyn ony berryng. 440 For thys story schoyt 3owe [her] 441 How we schuld kepe to owr powere 442 Goddys commawmentys wythowt grochyng. 443 Trowe 3e, sorys, and God sent an angel! 444 And commawndyd 3ow 3owre chyld to s!ayn, 445 Be 3owre trowthe ys ther ony of 3ow 446 That eyther wold groche or stryve therageyn? 447 How thyngke 3e now, sorys, therby? 448 I trow ther be thre ore a fowr or moo; 449 And thys women that wepe so sorowfully 450 Whan that hyr chyidryn dey them froo, 451 As nater woll, and kynd; 452 Yt ys but folly, I may wyll awooe, 453 To groche a3ens God or to greve 3ow, 454 For 3e schall neuer se hym myschevyd, wyll I know, 455 Be lond nor watyr, haue thys in mynd. 456 And groche not a3ens owre Lord God, 457 In welthe or woo, wether that he 3ow send, 458 Thow 3e be neuer so hard bestad, 459 For whan he wyll, he may yt amend. 460 Hys comawmentys trevly yf 3e kepe wyth good hart, 461 As thys story hath now schovyd 3ow beforne, 462 And feytheffully serve hym qwyll 3e be qvart, 463 That 3e may plece God bothe euyn and morne. 464 Now Jhesu, that weryt the crown of thorne, 465 Bryng vs all to heuyn-blysse! 466 Finis.