_Maria._ O, hye wysdam, in youre dygne deyté, Youre infynyth lovnesse mad oure salvacyon, That it lyst you of me sympilest to take here humanité, Wyth dew obeschyauns I make you gratulacyon. And, glorious Lord and sone, yif it like youre benygnyté, Nouth to ben displesid wyth my desideracyon, Me longith to youre presense now conjunct to the unyté, Wyth alle myn herte and my sowle be natures excitacyon, To youre domynacyon. ffor alle creaturis in you don affye, And myche more owe I youre modyr be alye, Syn ye wern born God and man of my bodye, To desyre youre presens that were oure ferste formacyon. _Sapientia._ My suete moderis preyere onto me doth assende, Here holy herte and here love is only on me; Wherfore, aungyl, to here thou schalt now dyssende, Seyinge here sche schal comyn to myn eternyté. Myn habundaunt mercy on here I extende, Resservynge here to joye from worldly perplexité, And in tokyn therof this palme now pretende, Seyinge here sche fere no man of divercyté. _Angelus Primus._ By youre myth I dissende to youre moder in virginité. _Angelus secundus._ ffor qwyche message injoyeth the hefnely consorcyt. _Hic discendet Angelus; ludentibus citharis, et dicet Mariæ_, _Primus Angelus._ Heyl! excellent prynces, Mary, moste pure! Heyl! radyant sterre, the sunne is not so bryth! Heyl! moder of mercy, and mayde most mure! The blessyng that God yaf Jacob upon you now is lyth! _Maria._ Now welcom bryth berde, Goddis aungel I sen, Ye ben messager of allemyhty, wolcom wyth my myhtis; I beseke you now say me upon youre hie nortur, What is the very name that to youre persone dith is? _Angelus._ What nedith you, Lady, my name ben desyrand? _Maria._ A! this, gracyows aungyl, I beseke you requyrand. _Angelus._ My name is gret and merveylous, treuly you telland, The hye God youre sone abidyth you in blis, The thrydde day hens ye schul ben expirand, And assende to the presence there my God youre sone is. _Maria._ Mercy and gromercy, God, now may I be seyand, Thankyng you suete aungyl for this message i-wys. _Angelus._ In tokenyng whereof, Lady, I am here presentand A braunce of palme, outh of paradis com this; Before youre here God biddith it be bore. _Maria._ Now thanke be to that Lord of his mercy evermore! _Angelus._ Yowre meknesse, youre lovnesse, and youre hie lore, Is most acceptable in the Trynité syth; Youre sete ryall in hefne apparaled is thore: Now dispose yow to deye, youre sone wyl thus rith. _Maria._ I obbeye the commaundement of my God here before; But on thyng I beseke that Lord of his myth, That my brether the appostelis myht me be before, To se me and I hem or I passe to that lyth; But they ben so deseverid me thynkyth it nyl be. _Angelus._ A! this, lady, inpossible to God nothyng trowe the, ffor he that sent Abbacuc with mete to Babylonye from Juré