_Contemplacio._ Lo! sofreynes here ȝe have seyn, In the temple of oure ladyes presentacion, She was nevyr occapyed in thynges veyn, But evyr besy in holy ocupacyon; And we beseche ȝow of ȝoure pacyens, That we pace these materes so lythly away, If thei xulde be do with good prevydens, Eche on wolde suffyce ffor an hoole day. Now xal we precede to here dissponsacion, Whiche aftere this was xiiij. ȝere, Tyme sufficyth not to make pawsacion, Hath pacyens with us, we beseche ȝow here, And in short spas, The parlement of hefne sone xal ȝe se, And how Goddys sone come man xal he, And how the salutacion aftere xal be, Be Goddys holy gras. X. MARY’S BETROTHMENT. _Tunc venit ab Ysakar espiscopus._ Lystenyth lordynges, both hye and lowe, And tendyrly takyth heyd onto my sawe, Beth buxom and benygne ȝour busshopp to knowe, ffor I am that lord that made this lawe. With hertys so hende herkyn nowe, ȝoure damyselys to weddying ȝa loke that ȝe drawe, That passyn xiiij. ȝere, ffor what that ȝe owe, The lawe of God byddyth this sawe, That at xiiij. ȝere of age Every damesel, what so sche be, To the encrese of more plenté, Xulde be browght in good degré, Onto here spowsage. _Joachym._ Herke now, Anne, my jentyl spowse, How that the buschop his lawe hath tolde, That what man hath a dowtyr in his house, That passyth xiiij. ȝeres olde, He muste here brynge, I herde hym kowse, Into the tempyl a spowse to wedde, Wherfore oure dowtyr ryth good and dowse, Into the tempyl sche must be ledde, And that anoon ryght sone. _Anne._ Sere, I grawnt that it be so, Aȝen the lawe may we not do, With here togedyr lete us now go, I hold it ryght weyl done. _Joachym._ Sere busshopp, here, aftyr thin owyn hest, We have here brought oure dowtyr dere; Mary, my swete childe, she is ful prest Of age, she is ful xiiij. ȝere. _Episcopus._ Welcome, Joachym, onto myn areste, Bothe Anne thi wyff and Mary clere; Now, Mary, chylde to the lawe thou leste, And chese the a spowse to be thi ffere, That lawe thou must ffulffylle. _Maria._ Aȝens the lawe wyl I nevyr be, But mannys ffelachep xal nevyr folwe me, I wyl levyn evyr in chastyté Be the grace of Goddys wylle. _Episcopus._ A! ffayre mayde, why seyst thou so? What menyth the for to levyn chast? Why wylt thou not to weddyng go? The cawse thou tell me, and that in hast. _Maria._ My ffaydr and my modyr sertys also, Er I was born, ȝe may me trast, Thei were bothe bareyn, here frute was do; They come to the tempyl at the last, To do here sacryfice. Bycause they hadde nothyr frute nere chylde, Reprevyd thei wore of wykkyd and wyllde, With grett shame thei were revylyd,— Al men dede them dyspyce.