Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/166

Cryst in me hath take incarnacion,
  Sone wele be borne, the trowthe I fele.

In this pore logge my chawmere I take,
  Here for to abyde the blyssyd byrthe
Of hym that alle this werd dude make,—
  Betwyn myn sydes I fele he styrthe.
Joseph. God be thin help, spowse, it swemyth me sore,
  Thus febyly loggyd and in so pore degré,
Goddys sone amonge bestys ffor to be bore;
  His woundyr werkys ffulfyllyd must be!
In an hous that is desolat, withowty any walle,
  ffyer nor wood non here is.
Maria. Joseph, myn husbond, abydyn here I xal,
  ffor here wyl be born the kynges sone of blys!
Joseph. Now, jentyll wyff, be of good myrthe,
  And if ȝe wyl owght have, telle me what ȝe thynk;
I xal not spare for schep nor derthe,—
  Now telle me ȝour lust of mete and drynk.
Maria. ffor mete and drynk lust I ryght nowth,
  Allemyghty God my fode xal be!
Now that I am in chawmere brought,
  I hope ryght welle my chylde to se.
Therfore husbond, of ȝour honesté,
  Avoyd ȝow hens out of this place;
And I alone, with humylité,
  Here xal abyde Goddys hyȝ grace.
Joseph. Alleredy, wyff, ȝow for to plese
  I wyl go hens out of ȝour way;
And seke sum mydwyvys ȝow for to ese,
  Whan that ȝe travayle of childe this day.
ffarewelle, trewe wyff, and also clene may,
  God be ȝour comforte in Trinyté!
Maria. To God in hevyn for ȝow I pray,
  He ȝow preserve wherso ȝe be!