Now, lord God, of lordys wysest of alle, I pray the, Lorde, knelyng on kne, With carefulle herte I crye and calle, This dowteful dowte enforme thou me. _Angelus._ Thy prayor is herd to hyȝ hevyn halle, God hath me sent here downe to the, To telle the what that thou do xalle, And how thou xalt be rewlyd in iche degré. Take tent and undyrstond. This is Goddys owyn byddyng, That alle kynsmen of Davyd the kyng, To the temple xul brynge here du offryng, With whyte ȝardys in ther honde. Loke wele what tyme thei offere there, Alle here ȝardys in thin hand thou take, Take hede whose ȝerde doth blome and bere, And he xal be the maydenys make. _Episcopus._ I thank the, Lord, with mylde chere, Thi wurde xal I werkyn withowtyn wrake; I xal send for hem, bothyn fere and nere; To werke thi wyl I undyrtake: Anon it xal be do. Herk, masangere, thou wend thi way, Davyd kynsmen, as I the say, Byd hem come offyr this same day, And brynge whyte ȝardys also. _Nuncius._ Oy! al maner men takyth to me tent, That be owgth of kynrede to David the kyng; My lord the busshop hath for ȝow sent, To the temple that ȝe come with ȝour offryng. He chargight that ȝe hast ȝow, for he is redy bent, ȝow to receyve at ȝour comyng; He byddeth ȝow fferthermore in handys that ȝe hent, A fayre white ȝerde everyche of ȝow ȝe bryng, In hyght. Tary not, I pray ȝow; My lord, as I say ȝow, Now to receyve so Is fulle redy dyght. _Joseph._ In great labore my lyff I lede, Myn ocupasyon lyth in many place, ffor febylnesse of age my jorney I may nat spede; I thank the, gret God, of thi grace! _Primus generacionis David._ What chere, Joseph, what ys the case, That ye lye here on this ground? _Joseph._ Age and febylnesse doth me embrace, That I may nother welle goo ne stond. _Secundus generacionis._ We be commandyd be the beschoppys sond, That every man of Davyd kynrede, In the tempyll to offyr a wond; Therfor in this jorney let us procede. _Joseph._ Me to traveylle yt is no nede, I prey you, frendes, go forth your wey. _Tertius generacionis._ This come forth, Joseph, I you rede, And knowyth what the buschop wolle sey. _Quartus generacionis._ Ther ys a mayd whos name ys clepyd Mary, Doughter to Joachym, as it is told: Here to mary thei wolle asay To som man dowty and bold. _Joseph._ Benedicite, I cannot undyrstande What oure Prince of Prestes doth men, That every man xuld come and brynge with hym a whande, Abyl to be maryed, that is not I, so mote I then. I have be maydon evyr, and evyr more wele ben, I chaungyd not ȝet of alle my long lyff; And now to be maryed sum man wold wen, It is a straunge thynge an old man to take a ȝonge wyff.