_Episcopus._ Now blyssyd virgyne, we thank ȝow alle Of ȝoure good hert and gret pacyens; We wyl go with ȝow hom to ȝour halle, To do ȝow servys with hyȝ reverens. _Maria._ I thank ȝow hertyly of ȝour benevolens, Onto ȝour owyn hous I pray ȝow ȝe goo. And take this pepyl hom with ȝow hens, I am not dysposyd to passyn hens froo. _Episcopus._ Than ffarewel, mayden and pure virgyne, Farewel, trewe handmayd of God in blys! We alle to ȝow lowly inclyne, And take oure leve of ȝow, as wurthy is. _Maria._ Allemyghty God, ȝour weys wysse, ffor that hyȝ lord is most of myght, He mote ȝow spede, that ȝe not mys, In hevyn of hym to have a syght. _Joseph._ Honouryd in hevyn be that hyȝ lorde, Whos endles grace is so habundaunt, That he doth shewe the trewe recorde Of iche wyhgt that is his trewe servaunt. That Lord to wurchepe with hert plesaunt, We bothe be bownd ryght on this place, Whiche oure purgacyon us dyde graunt, And prevyd us pure by hieȝ grace. _Maria._ fforsothe, good spowse, I thank hym hyȝly, Of his good grace ffor our purgacion! Oure clennes is knowyn ful opynly, Be vertu of his grett consolacion. XV. THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. _Joseph._ Lord, what travayl to man is wrought! Rest in this werd behovyth hym non; Octavyan oure emperor sadly hath besought Oure trybute hym to bere, ffolk must forth ichon, It is cryed in every bourgh and cety be name; I that am a pore tymbre wryth, born of the blood of Davyd, The emperores comawndement I must holde with, And ellys I were to blame. Now, my wyff Mary, what sey ȝe to this? For sekyr, nedys I must fforth wende Onto the cyté of Bedleem, ffer hens i-wys;— Thus to labore I must my body bende. _Maria._ Myn husbond and my spowse, with ȝow wyl I wende, A syght of that cyté ffayn wolde I se; If I myght of myn alye ony ther ffynde, It wold be grett joye onto me.