A10192:210
A tragedy of Abraham's sacrifice, written in frenchA tragedie of Abrahams sacrifice, written in french
A tragedy of Abraham's sacrifice, written in french by Theodore Beza, and translated into English, by A.G. Finished at Powles Belchamp in Essex, the xj. of August. 1575A tragedie of Abrahams sacrifice, written in french by Theodore Beza, and translated into Inglish, by A.G. Finished at Povvles Belchamp in Essex, the xj. of August. 1575
London: printed by Thomas Vautroullier, 1577
Title page typeset from the transcription.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
Abraham. The skies the great gods work ay glistering in our eyes Which well have seen how God (who still is true) Did me with fruit by Isaac here indew: And thou O land five times to me behight, Bear witness that my fingers do not smite This child of mine for hatred or for vengeance, ⟨p. 42⟩But only for to yield my dew obeisance, To that great God which hath created me, And all the things that live or move or be: Who saves the good that put in him their trust, And stroys the bad that serve their wicked lust. Bear witness that I faithful Abraham, Through gods great goodness still so steadfast am As notwithstanding all that humane wit Can say or think, to make me now to flit: In one belief I ever do remain, That not one word of God doth happen vain. But now my hand, high time it is that thou Do gather strength to execute thy vow. Here the knife falls out of his hand. That by thy killing of mine only son, Thy deadly stroke may through my hart eke run,
Abraham. Ye skyes the great gods woork ay glistring in our eyes Which well haue seene how God (who still is trew) Did me with frute by Isaac here indew: And thou O land fiue times to me behight, Beare witnesse that my fingers doo not smight This child of mine for hatred or for vengance, ⟨p. 42⟩But only for to yeeld my dew obeysance, To that great God which hath created me, And all the thinges that liue or moue or be: Who saues the good that put in him their trust, And stroyes the bad that serue their wicked lust. Beare witnesse that I faithfull Abraham, Through gods great goodnes stil so stedfast am As notwithstanding all that humane wit Can say or think, to make me now to flit: In one beleef I euer doo remaine, That not one word of God doth happen vaine. But now my hand, high time it is that thow Doo gather strength to execute thy vow. Heere the knife falles out of his hand. That by thy killing of mine only sonne, Thy deadly stroke may through my hart eke ronne,
Isaac. What do I here? Alas my father deer!