Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/55

 Caym. ȝitt me thynkeht thi wytt is wood,  ffor of thi lore I ffynde but ffewe; I wylle never the more chawnge my mood,   ffor no wordys that thou dost shewe;           I sey I wylle tythe the werst. Abelle. Now God, that syt in hefne above, On whom is sett alle myn hool love, This wyckyd wylle from the he showe,          As it plesyth hym best! Hic ardent decimum Abel et Caym; quo facto, dicent,

Caym. Herke, Abel, brother, what aray is this, Thy tythyng brennyth as ffyre fful bryght, It is to me gret wondyr i-wys, I trow this is now a straunge syght.

Abelle. Goddys wylle fforsothe it is, That my tythyng with fyre is lyth, ffor of the best were my tythis, And of the werst thou dedyst hym dyght, Bad thyng thou hym bede. Of the best was my tythyng, And of the werst was thin offryng, Therfor God Almyghty, hevyn kyng, Alowyht ryht nowth thi dede.

Caym. What? thou stynkyng losel, and is it so? Doth God the love and hatyht me? Thou xalt be ded, I xal the slo, Thi Lord thi God thou xalt nevyr se! Tythyng more xalt thou nevyr do, With this chavyl bon I xal sle the, Thi deth is dyht, thi days be go, Out of myn handys xalt thou not fle, With this strok I the kylle.— Now this boy is slayn and dede,