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 Now, gracyous God on hevyn hille, Accept now my tythyng.

Caym. Amonges alle ffolys that gon on grownd, I holde that thou be on of the most, To tythe the best that is most sownd, And kepe the werst that is nere lost. But I more wysly xal werke this stownde, To tythe the werst, and make no bost, Off alle my cornys that may be fownde, In alle my ffeldys bothe crofte and cost, I xal lokyn on every syde. Here I tythe this unthende sheff, Lete God take it or ellys lef, Thow it be to me gret repreff, I ȝeve no ffors this tyde.

Abelle. Now Caym, brother, thou dost ful ille, ffor God the sent bothe best and werst, Therfore thou shewe to hym good wylle, And tythe to God evyr of the best.

Caym. In feyth, thou shewyst now a febylle skylle, It wolde me hyndyr and do me greff, What were God the better, thou sey me tylle, To ȝevyn hym awey my best sheff, And kepe myself the wers? He wylle neyther ete nor drynke, ffor he doth neyther swete nor swynke: Thou shewyst a ffebyl reson, me thynke, What thou fonnyst as a best I gesse.

Abelle. ȝit me thynkyth my wyt is good. To God evermore sum love to shewe, Off whom we have oure dayly food, And ellys we had but lytyl drewe.