My lord the buschop, here have I brought This goodly copyl, at ȝour byddyng; And as me semyth as be here fraught, “ffayr chylde, lullay,” sone must she syng. _Primus detractor._ To here a credyl and ȝe wolde brynge, ȝe myght save monye in here purse; Becawse she is ȝour cosyn ȝynge, I pray ȝow, sere, lete her nevyr fare the wers. _Episcopus._ Alas! Mary, what hast thou wrought? I am aschamyd evyn for thi sake; How hast thou chaungyd thin holy thought? Dude old Joseph with strenght the take? Or hast thou chosyn another make, By whom thou art thus brought in schame? Telle me who hath wrought this wrake;— How hast thou lost thi holy name? _Maria._ My name, I hope, is saff and sownde, God to wyttnes I am a mayd! Of ffleschly lust and gostly wownde, In dede nere thought I nevyr asayd. _Primus doctor legis._ How xulde thi wombe thus be arayd, So grettly swollyn as that it is? But if sum man the had ovyr-layd, Thi wombe xulde never be so gret i-wys. _Secundus doctor legis._ Herke thou, Joseph, I am afrayd That thou hast wrought this opyn synne; This woman thou hast thus betrayd, With gret flaterynge or sum fals gynne. _Secundus detractor._ Now be myn trowthe ȝe hytte the pynne, With that purpose in feyth I holde; Telle now how thou thus dudyst wynne, Or knowlyche thiself ffor a cockewold. _Joseph._ Sche is for me a trewe clene mayde, And I for hire am clene also; Of fflesschly synne I nevyr asayde, Sythyn that sche was weddyd me to. _Episcopus._ Thou xalt not schape from us ȝitt so; ffyrst thou xalte tellyn us another lay; Streyt to the awter thou xalt go, The drynge of vengeawns ther to asay. Here is the botel of Goddys vengeauns;— Thys drynk xal be now thi purgacion; This hath suche vertu by Goddys ordenauns, That what man drynk of this potacion, And gothe serteyn in processyon, Here in this place this awtere abowth, If he be gylty, sum maculacion Pleyn in his face xal shewe it owth. Iff thou be gylty, telle us, lete se, Over Godys myght be not to bolde: If thou presume and gylty be, God thou dost greve many a folde. _Joseph._ I am not gylty, as I fyrst tolde, Allemyghty God I take wytnes! _Episcopus._ Than this drynke in hast thou holde, And on processyon anon the dresse. _Hic Joseph bibit et septies circuivit altare dicens_, _Joseph._ This drynk I take with meke entent, As I am gyltles, to God I pray,— Lord! as thou art omnypotente, On me thou shewe the trowthe this day. (_Modo bibit._) About this awtere I take the way, O gracyous God! help thi servaunt, As I am gyltles aȝen ȝon may, Thin hand of mercy this tyme me graunt!