Wycliffe(i)
1 Lo! my seruaunt, Y schal vptake hym, my chosun, my soule pleside to it silf in hym. I yaf my spirit on hym, he schal brynge forth doom to hethene men.
2 He schal not crie, nether he schal take a persoone, nether his vois schal be herd withoutforth.
3 He schal not breke a schakun rehed, and he schal not quenche smokynge flax; he schal brynge out doom in treuthe.
4 He schal not be sorewful, nether troblid, til he sette doom in erthe, and ilis schulen abide his lawe.