The Barbers and the Waxe Chaundlers Playe
Incipit pagina quarta, qualitur reversus est a cede quatuor regum occurit Rex Salem equitando el Loth, et dicat Abraham.
Preco dicat
All lordinges that be heare presente,
And harcken me with good intente,
Howe Noye awaie from us he wente,
And all his companye;
And Abraham, through Godes grace,
He is comen into this place,
And ye will geve us rombe and space
To tell you of storye.
This playe for south begyne shall he,
In worshippe of the Trenitie,
That you maye all heare and see
That shalbe done to daie:
My name is Gobbete one the Greene,
With you I maie no longer bene:
Fare well, my lordes, bydene,
For lettinge of your playe.
All lordinges that be heare presente,
And harcken me with good intente,
Howe Noye awaie from us he wente,
And all his companye;
And Abraham, through Godes grace,
He is comen into this place,
And ye will geve us rombe and space
To tell you of storye.
This playe for south begyne shall he,
In worshippe of the Trenitie,
That you maye all heare and see
That shalbe done to daie:
My name is Gobbete one the Greene,
With you I maie no longer bene:
Fare well, my lordes, bydene,
For lettinge of your playe.
Heare Abraham, havinge restored his brother Lote into his owne place, doth firste of al begine the playe, and saith:
Abraham
A! thou highe God, graunter of grace,
That endinge nor begininge hath,
I thanke thee, Lorde, that thou hath
To daie geven this victorye.
Lote, my brother, that tacken was,
I have restored hym in this case,
And broughte hym whom in this place
Through thy mighte and maisterye.
To worshippe thee I will nowe wonne;
That fower kinges of uncothe lande
To daye hath sente into my hande,
And riches with greate araye;
Therfore, of all that I have wonne,
To geve thee teath I wil begine;
The cittie sone when I come in,
And parte with thee my praye.
Melchesedecke, that heare kinge is,
And Godes preiste also, i-wysse,
The teath I will geve hym of this,
As skill is that I doe.
God that hath sente me the victorye
Of fower kinges graciouslye;
With hym a praye parte will I,
The cittie when I come towe.
Heare Lote, tornioge hym to his brother Abraham, dothe saye:
A! thou highe God, graunter of grace,
That endinge nor begininge hath,
I thanke thee, Lorde, that thou hath
To daie geven this victorye.
Lote, my brother, that tacken was,
I have restored hym in this case,
And broughte hym whom in this place
Through thy mighte and maisterye.
To worshippe thee I will nowe wonne;
That fower kinges of uncothe lande
To daye hath sente into my hande,
And riches with greate araye;
Therfore, of all that I have wonne,
To geve thee teath I wil begine;
The cittie sone when I come in,
And parte with thee my praye.
Melchesedecke, that heare kinge is,
And Godes preiste also, i-wysse,
The teath I will geve hym of this,
As skill is that I doe.
God that hath sente me the victorye
Of fower kinges graciouslye;
With hym a praye parte will I,
The cittie when I come towe.
Heare Lote, tornioge hym to his brother Abraham, dothe saye:
Lotte
Abraham, brother, I thanke thee,
That this daie haste delivered me
Of enemyes handes and their postie,
And saved me from woe;
Therfore, I will geve teathinge
Of my good, while I am levinge,
And nowe also of his sendinge
The teath I will geve also.
Abraham, brother, I thanke thee,
That this daie haste delivered me
Of enemyes handes and their postie,
And saved me from woe;
Therfore, I will geve teathinge
Of my good, while I am levinge,
And nowe also of his sendinge
The teath I will geve also.
Tunc venit armiger Melchesadecke ipsorum, [?] et gratulando dicat armiger.
Here the Messinger doth come to Melchesedecke, kinge of Salem, and rejoyced greatlye doth saie:
Messinger
My lorde, the kinge tydinges one righte,
Your harte to glade and to lighte,
Abraham hath slayne in feighte
Fower kinges, since he wente;
Here he wilbe this same nighte,
And riches enoffe with hym dighte.
I harde hym thanke God allmighte
Of grace he had hym sente.
My lorde, the kinge tydinges one righte,
Your harte to glade and to lighte,
Abraham hath slayne in feighte
Fower kinges, since he wente;
Here he wilbe this same nighte,
And riches enoffe with hym dighte.
I harde hym thanke God allmighte
Of grace he had hym sente.
Heare Melchesadecke, lokinge up to heaven, dothe thanke God for Abrahams victorye, and doth prepare hym selfe to goe and presente Abraham:
Melchesadecke rex Salem
A! blessed be God that is but one!
Againste Abraham will I gone
Worshippffullye, and that anon,
My office for to fulfill,
And presente hym with brede and wyne,
For grace of God is hym within:
Spede, for love myne,
For this is Godes will.
A! blessed be God that is but one!
Againste Abraham will I gone
Worshippffullye, and that anon,
My office for to fulfill,
And presente hym with brede and wyne,
For grace of God is hym within:
Spede, for love myne,
For this is Godes will.
Here the Messinger doth offer to Melchesadecke a standinge cupe and bredde; dotli saye:
Armiger cum pocula
Ser, here is wyne without en were,
And here to brede whyte and cleare,
To presente hym with good manere,
That so us holpen hath.
Ser, here is wyne without en were,
And here to brede whyte and cleare,
To presente hym with good manere,
That so us holpen hath.
Heare Melchesadecke answeringe, saith:
Melchesadecke.
To God I wotte he is full deare,
For all thinges in his prayer
He hath withouten dangere,
And especiallye hys grace.
To God I wotte he is full deare,
For all thinges in his prayer
He hath withouten dangere,
And especiallye hys grace.
Here Melchesadecke cominge unto Abraham doth offer unto hym a cupe full of wyne and bredde, and saithe:
Abraham, welckome muste thou be,
Godes grace is fullye in thee;
Blessed ever moste thou be,
That enemyes soe can meeke:
Here is brede and wyne for thy degree,
I have broughte, as you maye se;
Receive this presente nowe of me,
One that I thee beseeke.
Godes grace is fullye in thee;
Blessed ever moste thou be,
That enemyes soe can meeke:
Here is brede and wyne for thy degree,
I have broughte, as you maye se;
Receive this presente nowe of me,
One that I thee beseeke.
Here Abraham, receivinge the offeringe of Melchesadecke, and doth offer Melchesadecke a horse that is laden.
Abraham
Sir kinge, welckome in good faye,
Thy presente is welckome to my paye,
God hath holpen me to daye,
Unworthy though I were.
You shall have parte of my praye,
That I wane since I wente awaie,
Therfore to thee that take itt maye
The teath I offer here.
Sir kinge, welckome in good faye,
Thy presente is welckome to my paye,
God hath holpen me to daye,
Unworthy though I were.
You shall have parte of my praye,
That I wane since I wente awaie,
Therfore to thee that take itt maye
The teath I offer here.
Melchesadecke, recevinge the horse of Abraham, vereye gladly doe saie:
Melchesadecke.
And your presente, sir, take I,
And honoure yt devoutlye;
For moche good it maie signifie,
In tyme that is cominge.
Therfore, horse, harnes, and petrye,
As falles for your dignitie,
The teath of yt taketh of me,
And receive my offeringe.
And your presente, sir, take I,
And honoure yt devoutlye;
For moche good it maie signifie,
In tyme that is cominge.
Therfore, horse, harnes, and petrye,
As falles for your dignitie,
The teath of yt taketh of me,
And receive my offeringe.
Here Lotte dothe offer to Melchesadecke a goodly cupe, and saith:
Lotte
And I will offer, with good intente,
Of suche good as God hath me lente,
To Melchesadecke here presente,
As Godes will is to be.
Abraham my brother offred has,
And so will I through Godes grace,
This royall cupe before my face,
Receive yt nowe of me.
And I will offer, with good intente,
Of suche good as God hath me lente,
To Melchesadecke here presente,
As Godes will is to be.
Abraham my brother offred has,
And so will I through Godes grace,
This royall cupe before my face,
Receive yt nowe of me.
Melchesadecke, receivinge the cupe of Loth, saith:
Melchesadecke
Sir, your offeringe welckome is,
And well I wote for south, i-wysse,
That fullye Godes will it is
That is nowe done to daie.
Goe we togaither to my cittye,
And God nowe hartelye thanke we,
That helpes us ever through his postie,
For soe full well we maie.
Sir, your offeringe welckome is,
And well I wote for south, i-wysse,
That fullye Godes will it is
That is nowe done to daie.
Goe we togaither to my cittye,
And God nowe hartelye thanke we,
That helpes us ever through his postie,
For soe full well we maie.
Expositor equitando
Lordinges, what maye this signifie,
I will expounde it appeartlye,
That the unlearned standinge here by
Maye knowe what this maye be.
This presente, I saye veramente,
Signifieth the Newe Testamente,
That nowe is used with good intente,
Throughout all Christianitie.
Lordinges, what maye this signifie,
I will expounde it appeartlye,
That the unlearned standinge here by
Maye knowe what this maye be.
This presente, I saye veramente,
Signifieth the Newe Testamente,
That nowe is used with good intente,
Throughout all Christianitie.
In the oulde lawe, without leasinge,
When these towe goodmen were livinge,
Of beastes were ther offeringe,
And eke their sacramente.
But since Christe died on roode tree,
In brede and wyne his death remember we,
And at his laste supper one our mande
Was his commaundemente.
But for this thinge used shoulde be
Afterwardes, as nowe done we,
In significacion as leeve you me,
Melchesadecke did soe.
When these towe goodmen were livinge,
Of beastes were ther offeringe,
And eke their sacramente.
But since Christe died on roode tree,
In brede and wyne his death remember we,
And at his laste supper one our mande
Was his commaundemente.
But for this thinge used shoulde be
Afterwardes, as nowe done we,
In significacion as leeve you me,
Melchesadecke did soe.
And teathinges-makinge, as you seene here,
Of Abraham begonnan were;
Therfore to God he was full deare
And so were both towe.
Of Abraham begonnan were;
Therfore to God he was full deare
And so were both towe.
By Abraham understand I maie
The father of heaven, in good faye;
Melchesadecke, a preste to his paye,
To mynister that sacramente,
That Christe ordeyned the forsaide daie,
In brede and wyne to honor hym aye:
This signifieth, the south to saie,
Melchesadeckes presente.
The father of heaven, in good faye;
Melchesadecke, a preste to his paye,
To mynister that sacramente,
That Christe ordeyned the forsaide daie,
In brede and wyne to honor hym aye:
This signifieth, the south to saie,
Melchesadeckes presente.
Here God appeareth unto Abraham, and saithe:
God
Abraham, my servante, I saie to thee
Thy helpe and thy succkore will I be,
For thy good deed moch pleased me,
I tell thee witterlye.
Abraham, my servante, I saie to thee
Thy helpe and thy succkore will I be,
For thy good deed moch pleased me,
I tell thee witterlye.
Here Abraham, torninge to God, saith:
Abraham
Lorde, one thinge thou wouldeste see,
That I praye after with harte free,
Graunte me, Lorde, through thy postee,
Some frute of my bodye;
Lorde, one thinge thou wouldeste see,
That I praye after with harte free,
Graunte me, Lorde, through thy postee,
Some frute of my bodye;
I have noe childe, fowle ne fayer,
Save my nurye to be my eayre,
That makes me greatlye to appeare.
One me, Lorde, have mercye.
Save my nurye to be my eayre,
That makes me greatlye to appeare.
One me, Lorde, have mercye.
God
Naye, Abraham, frende, leve thou me,
Thyn nurye thyn heaire he shall not be,
But one sonne I shall sende thee,
Begotten of thy bodye.
Naye, Abraham, frende, leve thou me,
Thyn nurye thyn heaire he shall not be,
But one sonne I shall sende thee,
Begotten of thy bodye.
Abraham, doe as I thee saye,
Loke and tell, and yf thou maye,
Starres standinge one the straye,
That unpossible were:
No more shalte thou for no nede
Nomber thy bodelye seede,
That thou shalte have, withouten dreede,
Thou arte to me soe deare.
Loke and tell, and yf thou maye,
Starres standinge one the straye,
That unpossible were:
No more shalte thou for no nede
Nomber thy bodelye seede,
That thou shalte have, withouten dreede,
Thou arte to me soe deare.
Therfore, Abraham, servante freeye,
Loke that thou be trewe to me,
And here a forwarde I make to thee
Thy seed to multiplie;
So moche more further shalte thou be,
Kinges of thy seede men shall see,
And one childe of greate degreey
All mankinde shall forbye.
Loke that thou be trewe to me,
And here a forwarde I make to thee
Thy seed to multiplie;
So moche more further shalte thou be,
Kinges of thy seede men shall see,
And one childe of greate degreey
All mankinde shall forbye.
I will hensefourth forwarde all waie;
Eiche man childe, one the eighte daie,
Be sircomsiced on the eighte daie,
And thou thy selfe full soone.
Whoe so circomsiced not is,
Forsakeen shalbe with me, i-wysse,
For unobediente that man is:
Loke that this be done.
Eiche man childe, one the eighte daie,
Be sircomsiced on the eighte daie,
And thou thy selfe full soone.
Whoe so circomsiced not is,
Forsakeen shalbe with me, i-wysse,
For unobediente that man is:
Loke that this be done.
Abraham
Lorde, all readye in good faye,
Blessed be thou ever and aye!
For that we knowe maye
Thy folke from other men,
Circumsiced the shalbe all,
Mon for oughte that maye befalle;
I thanke thee, Lorde, thyn owne thrall,
Kneelinge on my knye.
Lorde, all readye in good faye,
Blessed be thou ever and aye!
For that we knowe maye
Thy folke from other men,
Circumsiced the shalbe all,
Mon for oughte that maye befalle;
I thanke thee, Lorde, thyn owne thrall,
Kneelinge on my knye.
Expositor
Lordinges, all take this intente,
What betockens this commaundment;
This was some tyme a sacramente,
In the oulde lawe trewlye tane;
As followeth nowe veramente,
So was this in the Oulde Testamente,
But when Christe died, awaie it wente,
And then begane baptisme.
Lordinges, all take this intente,
What betockens this commaundment;
This was some tyme a sacramente,
In the oulde lawe trewlye tane;
As followeth nowe veramente,
So was this in the Oulde Testamente,
But when Christe died, awaie it wente,
And then begane baptisme.
Also God promysed, behette us heare,
To Abraham his servante deare,
So moche seede, that in no manere
Numbred mighte be;
And one seede mankinde oughte to be,
That was Christe Jesus witterlye,
For of this kinde was our ladye,
And soe also was he.
To Abraham his servante deare,
So moche seede, that in no manere
Numbred mighte be;
And one seede mankinde oughte to be,
That was Christe Jesus witterlye,
For of this kinde was our ladye,
And soe also was he.
God
Abraham, my servante, Abraham.
Abraham, my servante, Abraham.
Abraham
Loe, Lorde, all readye heare I am.
Loe, Lorde, all readye heare I am.
God
Take, Isaake, thy sonne by name,
That thou loveste the beste of all,
And in sacrifice [offer] hym to me
Uppon that hyll their besides thee.
Abraham, I will that it be soe,
For oughte that maye befalle.
Take, Isaake, thy sonne by name,
That thou loveste the beste of all,
And in sacrifice [offer] hym to me
Uppon that hyll their besides thee.
Abraham, I will that it be soe,
For oughte that maye befalle.
Abraham
My Lorde, to thee is myne intente
Ever to be obediente.
That sonne that thou to me hath sente,
Offer I will to thee,
And fulfill thy comaundmente,
With hartie will, as I am kente.
Highe Lorde God omnipotente,
Thy byddinge shalbe.
My Lorde, to thee is myne intente
Ever to be obediente.
That sonne that thou to me hath sente,
Offer I will to thee,
And fulfill thy comaundmente,
With hartie will, as I am kente.
Highe Lorde God omnipotente,
Thy byddinge shalbe.
My meanye and my children eichone
Leinges at whom bouth all and one,
Save Isaake my sonne with me shall gone
To a hill heare besyde.
Heare Abraham, torninge hym to his sonne Isaake, saith:
Make thee readye, my deare darlinge,
For we muste doe a littill thinge.
This woode doe on thy backe it bringe,
We maye no longer abyde.
A sworde and fier that I will take;
For sacrafice me behoves to make:
Godes byddinge will I not forsake,
But ever obediente be.
Leinges at whom bouth all and one,
Save Isaake my sonne with me shall gone
To a hill heare besyde.
Heare Abraham, torninge hym to his sonne Isaake, saith:
Make thee readye, my deare darlinge,
For we muste doe a littill thinge.
This woode doe on thy backe it bringe,
We maye no longer abyde.
Heare Abraham taketh a sworde and fier.
A sworde and fier that I will take;
For sacrafice me behoves to make:
Godes byddinge will I not forsake,
But ever obediente be.
Heare Isaake speaketh to his father, and taketh a burne of stickes and beareth after his father, and saieth:
Isaake
Father, I am all readye
To doe your byddinge moste mekelye,
And to beare this woode full beane am I,
As you commaunded me.
Father, I am all readye
To doe your byddinge moste mekelye,
And to beare this woode full beane am I,
As you commaunded me.
Abraham
O Isaake, my darlinge deare,
My blessinge nowe I geve thee heare,
Take up this faggote with good cheare,
And one thy backe it bringe.
And fier with us I will take.
O Isaake, my darlinge deare,
My blessinge nowe I geve thee heare,
Take up this faggote with good cheare,
And one thy backe it bringe.
And fier with us I will take.
Isaake
Your byddinge I will not forsake;
Father, I will never slake
To fulfill your byddinge.
[Heare they goe bouth to the place to doe sacrifice.]
Your byddinge I will not forsake;
Father, I will never slake
To fulfill your byddinge.
[Heare they goe bouth to the place to doe sacrifice.]
Abraham
Nowe, Isaake sonne, goe we our waie
To vender mounte, yf that we maye.
Nowe, Isaake sonne, goe we our waie
To vender mounte, yf that we maye.
Isaake
My deare father, I will asaye
To followe you full fayne.
Abraham, beinge my[n]ded to sleye his sonne Isaake, leiftes up his
handes, and saith fowlowinge:
My deare father, I will asaye
To followe you full fayne.
Abraham, beinge my[n]ded to sleye his sonne Isaake, leiftes up his
handes, and saith fowlowinge:
Abraham
Ho! my harte will breake in three,
To heare thy wordes I have pittye;
As thou wylte, Lorde, so muste yt be,
To thee I wilbe bayne.
Laye downe thy faggote, my owne sonne deare.
Ho! my harte will breake in three,
To heare thy wordes I have pittye;
As thou wylte, Lorde, so muste yt be,
To thee I wilbe bayne.
Laye downe thy faggote, my owne sonne deare.
Isaake
Al readye, father, loe yt heare.
But whye make you sucke heavye cheare?
Are you anye thinge adreade?
Father, yf yt be your will,
Wher is the beaste that we shall kill?
Al readye, father, loe yt heare.
But whye make you sucke heavye cheare?
Are you anye thinge adreade?
Father, yf yt be your will,
Wher is the beaste that we shall kill?
Abraham
Therof, sonne, is non upon this hill,
That I see here in steade.
Isaake, fearinge leste his ffather woulde slaye hym, saith:
Therof, sonne, is non upon this hill,
That I see here in steade.
Isaake, fearinge leste his ffather woulde slaye hym, saith:
Isaake
Father, I am full sore afreade
To see you beare that drawne sorde:
I hope for all myddell yarde
You will not slaye your childe.
Abraham comfortes his sonne, and saieth:
Father, I am full sore afreade
To see you beare that drawne sorde:
I hope for all myddell yarde
You will not slaye your childe.
Abraham comfortes his sonne, and saieth:
Abraham
Dreede thee not, my childe, I reade;
Our Lorde will sende of his godheade
Some manner of beaste into this feilde,
Either tame or wilde.
Dreede thee not, my childe, I reade;
Our Lorde will sende of his godheade
Some manner of beaste into this feilde,
Either tame or wilde.
Isaake
Father, tell me or I goe
Wheither I shalbe harmede or noe.
Father, tell me or I goe
Wheither I shalbe harmede or noe.
Abraham
Ah! deare God! that me is woe!
Thou breakes my harte in sunder.
Ah! deare God! that me is woe!
Thou breakes my harte in sunder.
Isaake
Father, tell me of this case
Why you your sorde drawne hase,
And beares yt nacked in this place,
Theirof I have greate wounder.
Father, tell me of this case
Why you your sorde drawne hase,
And beares yt nacked in this place,
Theirof I have greate wounder.
Abraham
Isaake, sonne, peace, I thee praie,
Thou breakes my harte in [twaie.]
Isaake, sonne, peace, I thee praie,
Thou breakes my harte in [twaie.]
Isaake
I praye you, father, leane nothinge from me,
But tell me what you thinke.
I praye you, father, leane nothinge from me,
But tell me what you thinke.
Abraham
Ah! Isaake, Isaake, I muste thee kille!
Ah! Isaake, Isaake, I muste thee kille!
Isaake
Alas! father, is that your will,
Your owine childe for to spill
Upon this hilles brinke?
Yf I have treasspasede in anye degree,
With a yarde you maye beate me;
Put up your sorde, yf your wil be,
For I am but a childe.
Alas! father, is that your will,
Your owine childe for to spill
Upon this hilles brinke?
Yf I have treasspasede in anye degree,
With a yarde you maye beate me;
Put up your sorde, yf your wil be,
For I am but a childe.
Abraham
O, my deare sonne, I am sorye
To doe to thee this greate anoye.
Godes commaundmente doe muste I,
His workes are ever full mylde.
O, my deare sonne, I am sorye
To doe to thee this greate anoye.
Godes commaundmente doe muste I,
His workes are ever full mylde.
Isaake
Woulde God my mother were here with me!
Shee woulde kneele downe upon her knee,
Prainge you, father, if yt maye be,
For to save my liffe.
Woulde God my mother were here with me!
Shee woulde kneele downe upon her knee,
Prainge you, father, if yt maye be,
For to save my liffe.
Abraham
O! comelye creator, but I thee kille,
I greve my God, and that full ylle;
I maye not worke againste his will,
But ever obediente be.
O! Isaake, sonne, to thee I saie,
God hath commaunded me to daye
Sacrifice, this is no naye,
To make yt of thy bodye.
O! comelye creator, but I thee kille,
I greve my God, and that full ylle;
I maye not worke againste his will,
But ever obediente be.
O! Isaake, sonne, to thee I saie,
God hath commaunded me to daye
Sacrifice, this is no naye,
To make yt of thy bodye.
Isaake
Is yt Godes will I shalbe slayne?
Is yt Godes will I shalbe slayne?
Abraham
Yea, sonne, it is not for to leane;
To his byddinge I wilbe bayne,
And ever to hym pleasinge.
But that I doe this dilfull deede,
My Lorde will not quite me in my nede.
Yea, sonne, it is not for to leane;
To his byddinge I wilbe bayne,
And ever to hym pleasinge.
But that I doe this dilfull deede,
My Lorde will not quite me in my nede.
Isaake
Marye, father, God forbydde,
But you doe your offeringe!
Father, at whom your sonnes you shall fynde,
That you moste love by course of kinde:
Be I ouste out of your mynde,
Your sorowe maie sone seace;
But yeat you muste do Godes byddinge.
Father, tell my mother for no thinge.
Here Abraham wrynges his handes, and saith:
Marye, father, God forbydde,
But you doe your offeringe!
Father, at whom your sonnes you shall fynde,
That you moste love by course of kinde:
Be I ouste out of your mynde,
Your sorowe maie sone seace;
But yeat you muste do Godes byddinge.
Father, tell my mother for no thinge.
Here Abraham wrynges his handes, and saith:
Abraham
For sorowe I maie my handes wringe,
Thy mother I can not please.
Ho! Tsaake, Tsaake, blessed muste thou be!
Allmoste my witte I lose for thee;
The blood of thy bodye so freey
I am full lothe to sheede.
For sorowe I maie my handes wringe,
Thy mother I can not please.
Ho! Tsaake, Tsaake, blessed muste thou be!
Allmoste my witte I lose for thee;
The blood of thy bodye so freey
I am full lothe to sheede.
Here Isaake askinge his father blessinge one his knyes, and saith
Isaake
Father, seinge you muste nedes doe soe,
Let it passe lightlie, and over goe;
Kneelinge on my kneeyes towe,
Your blessinge on me spreade.
Father, I praye you hyde my eyne,
That I see not the sorde so keyne;
You[r] strocke, father, woulde I not see,
Leste I againste yt grylle.
Father, seinge you muste nedes doe soe,
Let it passe lightlie, and over goe;
Kneelinge on my kneeyes towe,
Your blessinge on me spreade.
Father, I praye you hyde my eyne,
That I see not the sorde so keyne;
You[r] strocke, father, woulde I not see,
Leste I againste yt grylle.
Abraham
My deare sonne Isaake, speake no more,
Thy wordes makes my harte full sore.
My deare sonne Isaake, speake no more,
Thy wordes makes my harte full sore.
Isaake
O deare father, wherefore! wherfore!
Seinge I muste nedes be dead,
Of on thinge I will you praie,
Seithen I muste dye the death to daie,
As fewe strockes you well maie,
When you smyte of my heade.
O deare father, wherefore! wherfore!
Seinge I muste nedes be dead,
Of on thinge I will you praie,
Seithen I muste dye the death to daie,
As fewe strockes you well maie,
When you smyte of my heade.
Abraham
Thy meeknes, childe, makes me aftraye;
My songe maye be wayle-a-waie.
Thy meeknes, childe, makes me aftraye;
My songe maye be wayle-a-waie.
Isaake
Dere father, doe awaye, do awaye
Your makeinge so moche inone!
Nowe, trewlye, father, this talkinge
Dotli but make longe taryeinge.
I praye you, come and make endinge,
And let me hense be gone.
Dere father, doe awaye, do awaye
Your makeinge so moche inone!
Nowe, trewlye, father, this talkinge
Dotli but make longe taryeinge.
I praye you, come and make endinge,
And let me hense be gone.
Here Isaake riseth and cometh to his father, and he taketh hym and byndeth and laieth hym upon the lter to sacrifice hym, and saith:
Abraham
Come neither, my childe, thou arte soe sweete,
Thou muste be bounde both hande and foote.
Come neither, my childe, thou arte soe sweete,
Thou muste be bounde both hande and foote.
Isaake
Father, we muste no more mete,
Be oughte that I maie see;
But doe with me then as you will,
I muste obaye, and that is skille,
Grodes commaundinente to fulfill,
For nedes soe must yt be.
Upon the porpose that you have sette you,
For south, father, I will not let you,
But ever more to you bowe,
While that ever I maie.
Father, greete well my brethren yonge,
And praye my mother of her blessinge,
I come noe more under her wynge,
Fare well for ever and aye;
But, father, I crye you mercye,
For all that ever I have trespassed to thee,
Forgeven, father, that it maye be
Untell domesdaie.
Father, we muste no more mete,
Be oughte that I maie see;
But doe with me then as you will,
I muste obaye, and that is skille,
Grodes commaundinente to fulfill,
For nedes soe must yt be.
Upon the porpose that you have sette you,
For south, father, I will not let you,
But ever more to you bowe,
While that ever I maie.
Father, greete well my brethren yonge,
And praye my mother of her blessinge,
I come noe more under her wynge,
Fare well for ever and aye;
But, father, I crye you mercye,
For all that ever I have trespassed to thee,
Forgeven, father, that it maye be
Untell domesdaie.
Abraham
My deare sonne, let be thy mones!
My childe, thou greves me ever ones;
Blessed be thou bodye and bones,
And I forge ve thee heare!
Nowe, my deere sonne, here shalt thou lye,
Unto my worke nowe muste I hie j
I hade as leeve my selfe to die,
As thou, my deare darlinge.
My deare sonne, let be thy mones!
My childe, thou greves me ever ones;
Blessed be thou bodye and bones,
And I forge ve thee heare!
Nowe, my deere sonne, here shalt thou lye,
Unto my worke nowe muste I hie j
I hade as leeve my selfe to die,
As thou, my deare darlinge.
Isaake
Father, if you be to me kinde,
Aboute my head a carschaffe bynde,
And let me lightlie out of your mynde,
And sone that I were speede.
Father, if you be to me kinde,
Aboute my head a carschaffe bynde,
And let me lightlie out of your mynde,
And sone that I were speede.
Here Abraham doth kisse his sonne Isaake, and byndes a charsehaffe aboute his heade.
Abraham
Fare well, my sweete sonne of grace!
Here let Isaake kneele downe and speake.
Fare well, my sweete sonne of grace!
Here let Isaake kneele downe and speake.
Isaake
I praye you, father, torne downe my face
A littill, while you have space,
For I am full sore adreade.
I praye you, father, torne downe my face
A littill, while you have space,
For I am full sore adreade.
Abraham
To doe this deed I am sorye.
To doe this deed I am sorye.
Isaake
Yea, Lorde, to thee I call and crye,
Of my soule thou have mercye,
Hartelye I thee praie!
Yea, Lorde, to thee I call and crye,
Of my soule thou have mercye,
Hartelye I thee praie!
Abraham
Lorde, I woulde fayne worke thy will,
This yonge innocente that lieth so still
Full loth were me hym to kille,
By anye maner a waye.
Lorde, I woulde fayne worke thy will,
This yonge innocente that lieth so still
Full loth were me hym to kille,
By anye maner a waye.
Isaake
My deare father, I thee praye,
Let me take my clothes awaie,
For sheedinge blude on them to daye
At my laste endinge.
My deare father, I thee praye,
Let me take my clothes awaie,
For sheedinge blude on them to daye
At my laste endinge.
Abraham
Harte, yf thou wouldeste borste in three,
Thou shalte never master me;
I will no longer let for thee,
My God, I maye not greeve.
Harte, yf thou wouldeste borste in three,
Thou shalte never master me;
I will no longer let for thee,
My God, I maye not greeve.
Isaake
A! mercye, father, why tarye you soe I
Smyte of my head and let me goe.
I praye ryde me of my woe,
For nowe I take my leve.
A! mercye, father, why tarye you soe I
Smyte of my head and let me goe.
I praye ryde me of my woe,
For nowe I take my leve.
Abraham
Ah, sonne! my harte will breake in three,
To heare thee speake such wordes to me.
Jesu on me! thou have pittye
That I have moste in mynde.
Ah, sonne! my harte will breake in three,
To heare thee speake such wordes to me.
Jesu on me! thou have pittye
That I have moste in mynde.
Isaake
Nowe, father, I see that I shall dye:
Almightie god in magistie!
My soule I offer unto thee;
Lorde, to yt be kinde.
Here let Abraham take and bynde his sonne lsaake upon the alter;
let hym make a signe as though he woulde cut of his head with
his sorde; then let the angell come and take the sworde by
the end and staie it, sainge:
Nowe, father, I see that I shall dye:
Almightie god in magistie!
My soule I offer unto thee;
Lorde, to yt be kinde.
Here let Abraham take and bynde his sonne lsaake upon the alter;
let hym make a signe as though he woulde cut of his head with
his sorde; then let the angell come and take the sworde by
the end and staie it, sainge:
Angellus
Abraham, my servante dere.
Abraham, my servante dere.
Abraham
Loe, Lorde, I am all readye here!
Loe, Lorde, I am all readye here!
Angellus
Laye not thy sworde in noe manere
On I sake, thy deare darlinge;
And do to hym no anoye.
For thon dredes God, well wote I,
That of thy sonne has no mercye,
To fulfill his byddinge.
Laye not thy sworde in noe manere
On I sake, thy deare darlinge;
And do to hym no anoye.
For thon dredes God, well wote I,
That of thy sonne has no mercye,
To fulfill his byddinge.
Secundus Angellus
And for hys byddinge thou dose aye,
And spareste nether for feare nor fraye,
To doe thy sonne to death to daie,
I sake, to thee full deare:
Therfore, God bathe sente by me, in faye!
A lambe, that is bouth good and gaye,
To have hym righte here.
And for hys byddinge thou dose aye,
And spareste nether for feare nor fraye,
To doe thy sonne to death to daie,
I sake, to thee full deare:
Therfore, God bathe sente by me, in faye!
A lambe, that is bouth good and gaye,
To have hym righte here.
Abraham
Ah! Lorde of heaven, and kinge of blesse,
Thy byddinge shalbe done, i-wysse!
Sacrafice sente me here is,
And all, Lorde, through thy grace.
A horned weither here I see,
Amonge the breyers tyed is he,
To thee offred shall he be,
Anon righte in this place.
Then let Abraham take the lambe andkille hym, and let God saie:
Ah! Lorde of heaven, and kinge of blesse,
Thy byddinge shalbe done, i-wysse!
Sacrafice sente me here is,
And all, Lorde, through thy grace.
A horned weither here I see,
Amonge the breyers tyed is he,
To thee offred shall he be,
Anon righte in this place.
Then let Abraham take the lambe andkille hym, and let God saie:
God
Abraham, by my selfe I sweare,
For thou haste bene obediente ever,
And spared not thy sonne to teare
To fulfill my byddinge,
Thou slialbe blessed, that pleased me,
Thy seed I shall so multiplie,
As starres and sande so manye heigh I,
Of thy bodye cominge.
Of enemyes thou shalte have power,
And of thy bloode also in feare,
Thou haste bene meke and bonere,
And do as I thee bade;
And of all nacions, leve thou me,
Blessed ever more shall thou be,
Through frute that shall come of thee,
And saved be through thy seede.
Abraham, by my selfe I sweare,
For thou haste bene obediente ever,
And spared not thy sonne to teare
To fulfill my byddinge,
Thou slialbe blessed, that pleased me,
Thy seed I shall so multiplie,
As starres and sande so manye heigh I,
Of thy bodye cominge.
Of enemyes thou shalte have power,
And of thy bloode also in feare,
Thou haste bene meke and bonere,
And do as I thee bade;
And of all nacions, leve thou me,
Blessed ever more shall thou be,
Through frute that shall come of thee,
And saved be through thy seede.
Expositor
Lordinges, this significacioun
Of this deed of devocion,
And you will you witten mone,
Maye torne you to moche good.
This deed you see done here in this place,
An exsample of Jesu done it was,
That for to wyne mankindes grace
Was sacrifised on the roode.
By Abraham, I maie understande
The father of heaven that can founde
With his sonnes bloode to breake that bande,
That the devill had broughte us to.
By Isaake, I maie understande
Jesu, that was obedient aye,
His fathers will to worke alwaie,
And death for to confounde.
Here let the docter knele downe, and saie:
Suche obedience grante us, Lorde!
Ever to thy moste holye worde,
That in the same we maie accorde
As this Abraham was bayne;
Then al togaither shall we
That worthy kinge in heaven see,
And dwell with hym in greate glorye,
For ever and ever, amen.
Here the messinger maketh an ende.
Make rombe, lordinges, and geve us waye,
And let Balacke come in and plaie,
And Balame that well can saie
To tell you of prophescie.
That Lorde that died on Good Frydaie,
He save you all bouth nighte and daie!
Fare well, my lordinges; I goe my waie,
I maye no longer abyde.
Lordinges, this significacioun
Of this deed of devocion,
And you will you witten mone,
Maye torne you to moche good.
This deed you see done here in this place,
An exsample of Jesu done it was,
That for to wyne mankindes grace
Was sacrifised on the roode.
By Abraham, I maie understande
The father of heaven that can founde
With his sonnes bloode to breake that bande,
That the devill had broughte us to.
By Isaake, I maie understande
Jesu, that was obedient aye,
His fathers will to worke alwaie,
And death for to confounde.
Here let the docter knele downe, and saie:
Suche obedience grante us, Lorde!
Ever to thy moste holye worde,
That in the same we maie accorde
As this Abraham was bayne;
Then al togaither shall we
That worthy kinge in heaven see,
And dwell with hym in greate glorye,
For ever and ever, amen.
Here the messinger maketh an ende.
Make rombe, lordinges, and geve us waye,
And let Balacke come in and plaie,
And Balame that well can saie
To tell you of prophescie.
That Lorde that died on Good Frydaie,
He save you all bouth nighte and daie!
Fare well, my lordinges; I goe my waie,
I maye no longer abyde.
Finis. Deo gr alias! per me, Georgi Bellin. 1592.
Come, Lorde Jesu, come quicklye. Anno 1592.
2023 Sep 26 11:45:55