"_Joseph._ Heyl, wurchepful sere, and good day! A ceteceyn of this cyte ye seme to be; Of herborwe[43] ffor spowse and me I yow pray, ffor trewly this woman is fful were, And fayn at reste, sere, wold she be; We wolde ffulffylle the byddynge of oure emperoure, ffor to pay tribute, as right is oure, And to kepe oureselfe ffrom dolowre, We are come to this cyte. _Cives._ Sere, ostage in this towne know I non, Thin wyff and thou in for to slepe; This cete is besett with pepyl every won, And yett thei ly withowte fful every strete. Withinne no walle, man, comyst thou nowth, Be thou onys[44] withinne the cyte gate; Onethys[45] in the strete a place may be sowth, Theron to reste, withowte debate. _Joseph._ Nay, sere, debate that wyl I nowth; Alle suche thyngys passyn my powere: But yitt my care and alle my thought Is for Mary, my derlynge dere. A! swete wyff, wat xal we do? Wher xal we logge this nyght? Onto the ffadyr of heffne pray we so, Us to kepe ffrom every wykkyd whyt. _Cives._ Good man, o word I wyl the sey, If thou wylt do by the counsel of me; Yondyr is an hous of haras[46] that stant be the wey, Amonge the bestys herboryd may ye be. |131| _Maria._ Now the fadyr of hefne he mut yow yelde! His sone in my wombe forsothe he is; He kepe the and thi good be fryth and ffelde! Go we hens, husbond, for now tyme it is."{11} The scene immediately after the Nativity is delicately and reverently presented in the York cycle. The Virgin worships the Child, saluting Him thus:-- "Hayle my lord God! hayle prince of pees! Hayle my fadir, and hayle my sone! Hayle souereyne sege all synnes to sesse! Hayle God and man in erth to wonne![47] Hayle! thurgh whos myht All this worlde was first be-gonne, merkness[48] and light. Sone, as I am sympill sugett of thyne, Vowchesaffe, swete sone I pray the, That I myght the take in the[r] armys of mine, And in this poure wede to arraie the; Graunte me thi blisse! As I am thy modir chosen to be in sothfastnesse." Joseph, who has gone out to get a light, returns, and this dialogue follows:-- "_Joseph._ Say, Marie doghtir, what chere with the? _Mary._ Right goode, Joseph, as has been ay. _Joseph._ O Marie! what swete thyng is that on thy kne? _Mary._ It is my sone, the soth to saye, that is so gud _Joseph._ Wel is me I bade this day, to se this foode![49] Me merueles mekill of this light That thus-gates shynes in this place, For suth it is a selcouth[50] sight! |132| _Mary._ This hase he ordand of his grace, my sone so ying, A starne to be schynyng a space at his bering * * * * *