Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/136

I dred me sore I am betrayd,
  Sum other man the had in honde,
          Hens sythe that I went.
Thy wombe is gret, it gynnyth to ryse,
Than hast thou begownne a synfulle gyse,
Telle me now in what wyse,
          Thyself thou hast thus schent.

Ow! dame, what thinge menyth this?
  With childe thou gynnyst ryth gret to gone.
Sey me, Mary, this childys fadyr ho is?
  I pray the telle me, and that anon.

Maria. The fadyr of hevyn and ȝe it is,
  Other fadyr hath be non;
I dede nevyr forfete with man i-wys;
  Wherfore I pray ȝow amende ȝour mon,—
          This childe is Goddys and ȝour.

Joseph. Goddys childe! thou lyist, in fay;
God dede nevyr jape so with may,
And I can nevyr ther, I dare wel say,
          ȝitt so nyh thi boure.
But ȝit I sey, Mary, whoos childe is this?

Maria. Goddys and ȝoure, I sey i-wys.

Joseph. ȝa! ȝa! alle olde men to me take tent,
  And weddyth no wyff in no kynnys wyse,
That is a ȝonge wenche, be myn asent,
  ffor doute and drede and swyche servyse.
Alas! alas! my name is shent!
  Alle men may me now dyspyse,
And seyn, "olde cokwold, thi bowe is bent
  Newly now after the Frensche gyse."
          Alas and welaway!
Alas! dame, why dedyst thou so?
ffor this synne that thou hast do,
I the forsake and from the go,
          ffor onys, evyr, and ay.