After my wyl thou qwyte my mede,
As plesyth to thi pay.
I may not lyfte myn handys heye,
Lo! lo! lo! what se ȝe now?
Episcopus. A! mercy! mercy! mercy! Lord, we crye, The blyssyd of God we se art thou.
Et clamant omnes "mercy! mercy!"
A! gracyous God, in hevyn trone,
Ryht wundyrful thi werkys be,
Here may we se a merveyl one,
A ded stok beryth floures ffre!
Joseph in hert, withoutyn mone,
Thou mayst be blythe with game and gle,
A mayd to wedde thou must gone,
Be this meracle I do wel se.
Mary is here name;
Joseph. What, xuld I wedde? God forbede!
I am an old man, so God me spede,
And with a wyff now to levyn in drede,
It wore neyther sport nere game.
Episcopus. Aȝens God, Joseph, thou mayst not stryve,
God wyl that thou a wyff have;
This fayr mayde xal be thi wyve,
She is buxum and whyte as lave.
Joseph. A! shuld I have here? ȝe lese my lyff:
Alas! dere God, xuld I now rave?
An old man may nevyr thryff
With a ȝonge wyff, so God me save!
Nay, nay, sere, lett bene,
Xuld I now in age begynne to dote,
If I here chyde she wolde clowte my cote,
Blere myn ey, and pyke out a mote,
And thus oftyn tymes it is sene.
Episcopus. Joseph, now as I the saye,
God hath assygnyd here to the;
