I am clepyd ryghtful, why wole ȝe se? ffor my godys into thre partys I devyde, On to the temple and to hem that ther servyng be, Anodyr to the pylgrimys and pore men; the iij.ᵈᵉ ffor hem with me abyde. So xulde every curat in this werde wyde, ȝeve a part to his chauncel i-wys, A part to his parochoneres that to povert slyde, The thryd part to kepe for hym and his. But, blyssyd wyff Anne, sore I drede In the temple this tyme to make sacryfice; Becawse that no frute of us dothe procede, I fere me grettly the prest wole me dysspice. Than grett slawndyr in the tribus of us xulde aryse: But this I avow to God, with alle the mekenes I can, ȝyff of his mercy he wole a childe us devyse, We xal offre it up into the temple to be Goddys man. _Anna._ ȝour swemful wurdys make terys trekyl downe be my face, I-wys, swete husband, the fawte is in me; My name is Anne, that is to sey, grace, We wete not how gracyous God wyl to us be. A woman xulde bere Cryst, these profecyes have we, If God send frute and it be a mayd childe; Withe alle reverens I vow to his magesté, Sche xal be here foot-mayd to mynyster here most mylde. _Joachym._ Now lete be it as God wole, ther is no more, Tweyn turtelys ffor my sacryfice with me I take; And I beseche, wyff, and evyr we mete more, That hese grett mercy us meryer mut make. _Anna._ For dred and ffor swem of ȝour wourdys I qwake, Thryes I kysse ȝow with syghys ful sad; And to the mercy of God mekely I ȝow betake, And tho that departe in sorwe, God make ther metyng glad! _Senior tribus._ Worchepful sere Joachym, be ȝe redy now? Alle ȝour kynrede is come ȝow to exorte, That thei may do sacrifice at the temple with ȝow, ffor ȝe be of grett wurchep, as men ȝow report. _Joachym._ Alle synfulle, seke, and sory, God mote comforte, I wolde I were as men me name! Thedyr in Goddys name now late us alle resorte: A Anne, Anne, Anne, God scheeld us fro shame! _Anne._ Now am I left alone, sore may I wepe, A, husbond! ageyn God wel mote ȝow brynge! And fro shame and sorwe he mote ȝow kepe, Tyl I se ȝow ageyn I kan not sees of wepynge. _Senior._ Prynce of oure prestys, if it be ȝour plesynge, We be com mekely to make our sacrefice. _Ysakar._ God do ȝow mede, bothe elde and ȝynge, Than devowtly we wyl begynne servyse. _There they xal synge this sequens, “Benedicta sit beata Trinitas.” And in that tyme Ysakar with his ministeres ensensythe the autere, and than thei make her offryng, and Isaker seyth_, Comyth up, serys, and offeryth alle now, ȝe that to do sacryfice worthy are: Abyde a qwyle, sere, whedyr wytte thou? Thou and thi wyff arn barrany and bare; Neyther of ȝow ffruteful nevyr ȝett ware, Whow durste thou amonge fruteful presume and abuse? It is a tokyn thou art cursyd thare, Wherefore with grett indygnacion thin offeryng I refuse!