_Den._ This olde shrewe may not wele gon, Longe he taryeth to go abowth; Lyfte up thi feet, sett forthe thi ton, Or be my trewthe thou getyst a clowte! _Secundus detractor._ Now, sere evyl Thedom, com to thi snowte! What heylyght thi leggys now to be lame? Thou dedyst hem put ryght freschly owte, Whan thou dedyst play with ȝon ȝonge dame. _Primus detractor._ I pray to God gyf hym myschawns, Hese leggys here do folde for age; But with this damysel whan he dede dawns, The olde charle had ryght gret corage. _Den._ The shrewe was than sett in a dotage, And had good lust that tyme to pleyn; ȝaff sche not ȝow cowdel to potage, Whan ȝe had don, to comforte ȝour brayn? _Joseph._ A! gracyous God, help me this tyde, Ageyn this pepyl that me doth fame; As I nevyr more dede toche where syde, This day help me fro werdly schame! Abowte this awtere to kepe my fame, Vij. tymes I have gon rownd abowte; If I be wurthy to suffyr blame, O ryghtful God, my synne shewe owughte. _Episcopus._ Joseph, with hert thank God thi Lorde, Whos heyȝ mercy doth the excuse; ffor thi purgacion we xal recorde, With hyre of synne thou dedyst never muse. But, Mary, thiself mayst not refuse; Alle grett with chylde we se the stonde, What mystyr man dede the mysuse, Why hast thou synnyd ageyn thin husbonde? _Maria._ I trespacyd nevyr with erthely wyght; Therof I hope, thorowe Goddys sonde, Here to be purgyd before ȝour syght, ffrom alle synne clene, lyke as myn husbonde. Take me the botel out of ȝour honde, Here xal I drynke beforn ȝour face; Abowth this awtere than xal I fonde, Vij. tymes to go, by Godys grace. _Primus doctor legis._ Se this bolde bysmare wolde presume, Ageyn God to preve his myght! Thow Goddys vengeauns hyre xuld consume, Sche wyl not telle hyre fals delyght. Thou art with chylde, we se in syght, To us thi wombe the doth accuse. Ther was nevyr woman ȝitt in suche plyght, That ffrom mankynde hyre kowde excuse. _Primus detractor._ In ffeyth I suppose that this woman slepte Withowtyn alle coverte, whylle that it dede snowe, And a flake therof into hyre mowthe crepte, And therof the chylde in hyre wombe doth growe. _Secundus detractor._ Than beware dame, for this is wel i-knowe Whan it is born, yf that the sunne shyne, It wyl turne to watyr ageyn, as I trowe, ffor snow onto watyr do the evyr more reclyne. _Secundus doctor legis._ With Goddys hyȝ myght, loke thou not jape, Of thi purgacion wel the avyse; Yf thou be gylty, thou mayst not schape, Beware evyr of God, that ryghtful justyce. If God with vengeauns set on the his syse, Not only thou but alle thi kyn is schamyd; Bettyr it is to telle the trewthe devyse, Than God for to greve and of him be gramyd.