ffor febylnesse of age my jorney I may nat spede;
I thank the, gret God, of thi grace!
Primus generacionis David.
What chere, Joseph, what ys the case,
That ye lye here on this ground?
Joseph. Age and febylnesse doth me embrace, That I may nother welle goo ne stond.
Secundus generacionis.
We be commandyd be the beschoppys sond,
That every man of Davyd kynrede,
In the tempyll to offyr a wond;
Therfor in this jorney let us procede.
Joseph. Me to traveylle yt is no nede, I prey you, frendes, go forth your wey.
Tertius generacionis.
This come forth, Joseph, I you rede,
And knowyth what the buschop wolle sey.
Quartus generacionis.
Ther ys a mayd whos name ys clepyd Mary,
Doughter to Joachym, as it is told:
Here to mary thei wolle asay
To som man dowty and bold.
Joseph. Benedicite, I cannot undyrstande
What oure Prince of Prestes doth men,
That every man xuld come and brynge with hym a whande,
Abyl to be maryed, that is not I, so mote I then.
I have be maydon evyr, and evyr more wele ben,
I chaungyd not ȝet of alle my long lyff;
And now to be maryed sum man wold wen,
It is a straunge thynge an old man to take a ȝonge wyff.
But nevyr the lesse no doute of we must forth to towne,
Now neybores and kynnysmen lete us forth go:
I xal take a wand in my hand and cast of my gowne,
Yf I falle than, I xalle gronyn for wo.
